Axel
by jinjyaa
Summary: Wolfram finds he can't move on physically with Yuuri, until he lays to rest the ghost of his first love affair, when he decided what it meant to him, to take on the responsibility of an Aristocrat.
1. Bielenfeld Blue

Kyou Kara Maou : Axel

Summary: Wolfram tells his father about his first love affair, in the dark days after Suzanna Julia died, when Wolfram turned his back on healing and became a soldier. Yuuri appears in later chapters. Side story to The Bedding of Wolfram.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Warnings: rated M for mature sexual theme. No spoilers – most of the characters / plot here never appear in the anime.

_Please review._

_Update: note there are illustrations on the "homepage" link on my profile – portraits of all the key OC's, plus an illustration of the Bielenfeld Beautiful Boy Pageant. _

Chapter 1 : Bielenfeld Blue

Wolfram lay back on his pillows, huddled in blankets on the window seat of his room at Blood Pledge Castle, and groaned. Outside the morning sun was shining. Greta and the kitchen girls were laughing, birds were singing, flowers blooming. Inside, his head swirled with darkness and ashes.

His father Manfred looked up from the student papers he was companioniably grading at the table. "Was that a groan of breakthrough realization? Or disgust?"

"I'm tired," answered Wolfram. "I'm getting nowhere… Any decent students in that pile?" He waved limply at his father's stack of grading, eyes closed.

"They'll make adequate healers," Manfred allowed. "This one even shows glimpses of intelligence."

Wolfram chuckled. He mentally translated that to the comments Manfred would write on the paper: _Top marks! Insightful! Keep developing these ideas through the rest of the course, I look forward to seeing where you go with them!_ Many a healing student at the Bielenfeld Institute of Majutsu was led by the nose to earn and re-earn Manfred's praise. "…You're a great teacher, Chichiue. How did you know what you should be?"

"Trial and error, like everyone else." Further than that, Manfred declined to go. He sat back and looked at his son thoughtfully. "Is this purely diversionary? Or are you trying to work through, the… what would you call it?"

_My men, all dead save Andrei and I… slain in their sleep… slain fighting… died of wounds… died protecting me… Robair and Paol, raped to death beside me, begging for death… Axel, died in a berserker rage killing our rapists… Andrei lost hand and eye, never to soldier again… I failed them as a commander… I failed… Axel… Yuuri… Axel… I'm a soldier… healer… lover… soldier… officer… Mazoku… noble… failure… Hahaue's son… Chichiue's son… Yuuri's fiancé… Axel's lover… Axel's commander… failure… _

"The _troop_ thing," Wolfram summarized, eyes clenched shut. He grabbed a stuffed animal lying beside him and hurled it in frustration. "This is _pointless! _I just keep going around in circles!"

"Mm. Well. You _are_ tired, you lost a lot of blood. Perhaps you could use a break to get your mind out of a rut. Why don't you tell me about Axel?"

Wolfram slitted open an emerald green eye to look at his father. The price of being let off suicide watch was a vow of six hours a day hard labor facing his own internal demons, generally in the privacy of his own mind, but with his father mercilessly supervising to make sure he stuck with it. Seeing no clues, he closed his eye again and muttered, "You were there."

"Mmm, I remember your visit twenty years ago, if that's what you're referring to. But you weren't very forthcoming at the time. So, tell me about you and Axel." Wolfram didn't start talking immediately. "Unless, you'd rather go back to wrestling your demons on your own…"

"_Alright,_ alright. I'll talk…"

-oOo-

Wolfram took to the practice fields with his sword. The war was over, but no one trusted the peace, and victory tasted of ashes. Troops still overflowed the garrisons of Blood Pledge Castle, though the death toll had eased the crowding. The practice fields were full, ringing with sword practice, thunking with archery practice, grunting and chanting with strength and endurance practice. The injured were everywhere, relaxing by the sides to encourage the less injured.

Wolfram hesitated awkwardly by the entrance. _I don't / do / don't belong here._ He'd been here with Conrad and Gwendal many a time. But he wasn't a soldier. Hahaue couldn't bear for him to fight, though he was old enough. Though he desperately wished to join the troops, he couldn't bear her crying, and he relented time after time, studying healing under Suzanna Julia, instead of taking his place in battle as a man. _But Julia's dead. And Conrad – Weller – is gone, to take her spirit to be reborn in another world. And I don't want to be kind to Hahaue or anyone else. I want to fight!_

-o-

/ _"That's right," said Wolfram. "Weller lost all his men, too, save Yozak. And Julia, his great love… forbidden love… Then he walked away from Yozak, and all of us as well, for years."_

_"So he did," replied Manfred neutrally. "Go on." /_

-o-

Wolfram hadn't cracked open a healing book since he learned of Julia's death. When Cheri was distraught with missing Conrad – Weller – and came to cling to Wolfram, he escaped as soon as possible, unable to bear soothing her sadness. He didn't want to feel sad or compassionate. He wanted to burn the pain away with rage. _I want to fight!_

"Von Bielenfeld-kyo?" Another young blond in Bielenfeld blue approached him deferentially. "Looking for someone to practice with? You're welcome to join us. My name's Axel."

"Please call me Wolfram," he responded in relief. "Thank you, Axel, I should like that very much." Fighting shyness, Wolfram followed him to a small group in Bielenfeld blue. Not that their well-worn uniforms matched his nobleman's finery. Indeed, though he watched them most carefully of all the troops, he didn't know them, these theoretical countrymen. He felt barely more than a guest on his rare trips there to visit his father. Though acknowledged as his son and heir, his father had never married his mother. All in all, Wolfram felt rather an impostor as a von Bielenfeld, and couldn't imagine how these troops felt about him.

As he joined them, most of the youths jumped to their feet, save one with crutches and a cast. All bowed their heads briefly in salute. Axel introduced. "Wolfram von Bielenfeld-kyo, please meet Taran, Viel, Pyotr, and the lazy gimp there is Mikka." Wolfram grinned and nodded to them all. Axel had a real gift for putting people at ease. "And now, goof-offs, we've seen Wolfram having at it with Weller-kyo. Today let's practice with someone who's _good_ with a sword! Who's up first?"

In the end, Wolfram had wooden sword bouts with each of Taran, Viel, and Pyotr, before Axel took up a real sword against him with a grin. "I had to let them tire you out first. Sir," he said with a smile. With the other youths, Wolfram got well warmed up, and gradually relaxed enough to give them some pointers, but trained as he was with Conrad and Gwendal, the boys just weren't in his league. But tired from those fights, Axel was close to a match for him. He still won, but he had to work for it, and steel swords were much heavier than wood. Both panting, the youths grinned at each other over their pommels. "Good fight, Sir!"

"Well fought, Axel! No need to call me Sir all the time, I'm not one of your officers. Call me Wolfram."

"Yes, Si- ah, Wolfram," Axel agreed laughing. "Well, Wolfram, we're tired and headed for the mess hall. We'd be honored if you'd come teach us again sometime." At Wolfram's wistful look, he added, "Or, you could join us at mess?"

Wolfram grinned, delighted. "Yes, I'd like that, please."

Axel openly eyed Wolfram's ruffles and fine jewelry and shined boots. "If you wouldn't mind dropping by my quarters on the way, then?" Axel and the guys led him into the warren of wooden barracks he hadn't entered before. The others peeled off into a door in mid-building, but Axel kept going to the end, where there were far more doors. He opened one of them into a small neat cubicle with a single bunk.

"Are you the officer, then, Axel?" Wolfram asked, surprised.

The other laughed out loud. "These are sergeant's quarters – and I'm not a sergeant, either. After we lost our officer and sergeant last year, we got attached to the Shin Makoku army. The new sarge decided the simplest way to deal with us was to make the group my problem, so he stuck me in here to 'give me authority' and told me to keep 'em in line. Not exactly a promotion or anything, but I do kick their butts out onto the practice field so the real sarge can ignore us. We're still officially Bielenfeld army, anyway." While Axel was cheerfully relaying this, he opened his footlocker to pull out a clean folded undress uniform. "We're about the same size, try it."

Though he'd never lived in barracks, Wolfram was used to the vast communal baths of the castle. It only gradually dawned on him that the reason he felt bashful now, stripping and changing in this tiny room with Axel, was that the other was openly eyeing him appreciatively. _That,_ Wolfram didn't get much of from the men in the castle, being the Maou Cheri's pampered baby boy. But he liked it… He smiled shyly and turned back and forth for show a little, and said, "Is this on right?"

Axel made a show of taking the opportunity to examine him, and said, "_Damn_, you look good, Wolfram. Yes, I believe it's on right. C'mon, the guys are waiting for us!" And they headed out to the mess, Axel's arm thrown casually over Wolfram's shoulders in friendship.

The mess food was plain, but good, a generous serving of meat and vegetable stew apiece. Pitchers of water and bowls of bread and butter and cheese were constantly replenished on each table, to take as much as one wished.

"So, where are you all from? In Bielenfeld," Wolfram asked.

Axel answered. "Pyotr and Mikka are from tenant farm families on the Tarkenburg plantation – they were friends back home, and joined up together. Viel's people run an inn by the Institute. Taran and I are from the castle town – his people are craftsmen. My mother and sisters work the castle laundries. My father and brothers were soldiers."

_Were._ "Viel, my father works at the Institute, too," Wolfram began, then realized everyone was smiling at each other.

"Everyone in Bielenfeld knows Manfred," Viel answered. "Him and General von Gratz… Hey, is it true what they say, about those two having a falling out at Suzanna Julia von Wincott's funeral?"

"More than a falling out," said Wolfram uncomfortably. "They started a majutsu duel. It wasn't easy getting them apart. I was afraid Chichiue would burn the place down – "

The story was interrupted by some more youths joining them. Two were the most beautiful blonds Wolfram had ever seen, save perhaps himself. These turned out to be Paol, a healer, and his friend Robair. They'd been working at the hospital instead of "banging swords about" that day, mostly as orderlies, though they could all manage simple healing spells, and Paol considerably more. When Wolfram's group explained about Wolfram joining them for sword practice, Paol cut in hungrily, "Have you studied healing under your father, Wolfram?"

"Yes, healing and fire attacks both – though my mother wants me to study only healing."

Paol and Robair exchanged looks. "Can you teach _us?_"

Axel explained, "We're all novice majutsu specialists, cavalry. But majutsu troops are so tight-knit… When the Bielenfeld regiment lost its head, if we wanted to join other majutsu troops, they'd have split us up by ones and twos. We'd rather stay together, as Bielenfeld troops, but we don't get any training this way. Sarge said, unless we found a teacher, we had to to stick to swords. Except at the hospital."

"I'd love to practice fighting majutsu with you as well as swords!" said Wolfram. "Can we practice again tomorrow?"

Everyone's excited agreement was cut off by an officer making an announcement to the mess. "As of this morning, General Adelbert von Gratz has been declared a traitor to Shin Makoku, and exiled, for advocating the repudiation of Shinou, the Maou Cecilie, and her Regent Stoeffel von Spitzweg. Gratz has declared himself an ally to the humans. Let no Mazoku offer him assistance. Replacing him among the Ten Aristocrats is his brother, Brendan von Gratz. All Gratz forces to attend review tomorrow, full dress plus honor guard. That is all."

Wolfram sat dead still. The fight at the funeral was bad enough, but for cousin Adelbert to turn against Shinou and his mother… It was like a sudden punch knocking the wind out of him. And these troops surrounding him had followed,_ revered, _Adelbert.

Pyotr was the first to talk into the table's silence. "Well, I can understand his point about the Maou –"

Axel cut that off, _"Fool!_ You speak treason with the Maou's son at table?"

Silence fell at their table, though the mess was quite loud with ugly murmuring. Wolfram stood up quietly and with dignity. "I expect I'll be needed at the castle tomorrow. Pyotr… For what it's worth, the Maou opposed this latest war as much as von Gratz did. My own brother Weller's half-Mazoku Lutenberg Legion was decimated, sent off on a suicide mission without adequate weapons or armor. I'll never forgive my cousin Adelbert's treason. But nor will I forgive my Uncle Stoeffel."

As Wolfram stiffly walked away, surrounded by covert glances and sudden silences wherever he passed, Axel leapt up to join him. "I'm sorry about Pyotr, sir," he said when they were safely outside. "He spoke without thinking. From where we sit, without even a Bielenfeld officer anymore, these politics on high are a puzzle. We see our own domain refuse to replace the regiment's officer, a good general gone mad, a lot of good men and women dead. Pyotr was speaking from his frustration, not his head. Please, sir. Come teach us majustsu anyway? Ah, Wolfram… this way?"

Wolfram winced. He'd forgotten his clothes were still at Axel's.

Axel handed him out his noble clothes as a bundle. "Just keep my old uniform, for practices. I've got plenty. Though you're always welcome to drop by my quarters?" He smiled uncertainly. "Can't ever have too many friends, right?"

Wolfram couldn't help but respond in kind, and hold out his hand. "I'll look for you day after tomorrow in the practice fields, then."

-oOo-

"Hahaue was frantic looking for you yesterday," complained Gwendal. He and Wolfram stood in full formal regalia in the line of the Ten Aristocrats, Gwendal in his own right as Lord of Walde, and Wolfram standing in for the elderly Lord of Bielenfeld. Though the occasion was important enough for all Ten to attend, it was also being rushed to reassure the public after Adelbert's dramatic scandal, so there were many substitutes.

Brendan von Gratz, swearing fealty today as the new Lord of Gratz, looked very like his elder brother. But he'd always stayed home to mind the domain while Adelbert pursued his military career. When Wolfram's turn came, he assured his cousin of the continued support and friendship of Bielenfeld, and his family's personal regret for Brendan's trials. Brendan seemed touched by the ritual and made Wolfram promise to come hunting next time he passed through Gratzberg.

As usual, Wolfram and Gwendal's speaking parts were over in minutes, but the event dragged on for hours. "Where were you?" Gwendal demanded. Wolfram told him, and that he planned to go again tomorrow, and hoped to continue practicing with them.

Gwendal frowned, uncertain. "That doesn't seem appropriate for a noble of your rank, Wolfram. If you were properly trained, you'd be a candidate to command the whole Bielenfeld Regiment. But it's not for the troops to train up their commander. What do you think, Günter?" They fell in with Günter von Krist, also subbing in for his liege today, as they filed out to the military review stand.

"Oh, certainly not," said Günter, "without following the proper forms. You'd want permission from their officer at a minimum. If you want to proceed with officer's training, you could petition Lord von Bielenfeld for a commission, and probably seek training from the Shin Makoku garrision. And none of _them_ would grant permission without the blessing of Stoeffel and Maou first. But even informally, well, you could begin by asking permission from General Teodor von Trondheim. I see he's standing today with his Lord brother. An unusually political move for Ted, don't you think, Gwendal?"

"Ted and Adelbert were tight," suggested Gwendal. "I imagine Lord Franklin is pushing Ted to rehabilitate himself."

Wolfram complained, "I don't understand why there's all this political red tape. I'm just trying to play with some friends, and see if I want to become a soldier! The commoners must think we're clowns with all this…"

"Wolfram!" exclaimed Günter, shocked. "Not in the least! The rituals and forms of the aristocracy are an assurance of stability and well-trained government for the people. The good relations and close ties between the noble families, such as Bielenfeld and Gratz, have been carefully cultivated over the generations to produce alliances for the domain's best interests. We nobles are our people's representatives in government."

Wolfram ruefully wondered what, if any, political use his parents' brief unmarried liaison had served. "Still no love lost between Spitzweg and Bielenfeld and Maou from where I stand," he grumbled. "And me hanging around as Hahaue's teddy bear won't fix that."

Gwendal glowered at him. "Your birth was just the beginning. How to go about the rest of the task is up to you. But Hahaue's already had one son walk away on her this year. Whatever else you do, _don't_ screw up the_ teddy bear_ job."

"I know, I know…" Wolfram grumbled, then stopped, surprised. "The Bielenfeld Regiment! Someone must have patched it together to review with the Gratz troops today. Wonderful!" And before Gwendal and Günter had a chance to prompt him, Wolfram was striding to center podium to stand with Brendan. As the break between Gratz maroon and Bielenfeld blue passed, he and Brendan clasped hands and held them high, to great cheering from the troops. Cheri came forward and lifted Brendan's other hand high, for another round of cheers. And though both boys were on parade, still Wolfram and Axel managed to catch each other's eye and smile.

_Günter's right,_ thought Wolfram, moved. _The red tape seems silly, but this ritual today – this mattered. _Brendan looked to have tears standing in his eyes. The troops answered with handclasps between Bielenfeld and Gratz on the parade field. _Adelbert's wound was deep, but today was a good start on the healing._

-oOo-

I love reviews… Please?


	2. Magic Lessons

Kyou Kara Maou : Axel

Summary: Wolfram tells his father about his first love affair, in the dark days after Suzanna Julia died, when Wolfram turned his back on healing and became a soldier. Yuuri appears in later chapters. Side story to The Bedding of Wolfram.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Warnings: rated M for mature sexual theme. No spoilers – most of the characters / plot here never appear in the anime.

_Please review._

_Update: just cleaning up._

Chapter 2 : Magic Lessons

Sheepishly, Wolfram left his undress blues and fighting sword in Axel's empty room, while he wore his usual noble dress blues and ceremonial sword to go find Axel's Shin Makoku officer, Sir Chaswick. Ted von Trondheim had expedited matters, so going through the proper forms had him running only slightly late for practice.

Axel was in the room when Wolfram returned to change. He looked at the young lord rather blankly. "I had to wear these to seek permission to train with you," explained Wolfram. "My brother Lord Gwendal chewed me out yesterday for bypassing protocol."

At that, Axel's blank look broke out into a wide grin, like sun breaking out from an overcast sky. "Oh!" he laughed. "When I saw the kit returned without even a note, I thought… Never mind! So we have official permission now, huh? Great!"

Wolfram smiled ruefully. "Sorry, I hadn't considered how that might look. And… I'm sorry about all the red tape. I tried to keep it casual, but after all this, I'm afraid you're almost stuck with me. We nobility must look like clowns to you…"

Axel broke off his frank appreciation of Wolfram's disrobing to consider that. "With respect, Wolfram… We're soldiers under orders. I saw an opportunity for better training and jumped at it, but… it never was a game for us. If this means you've made a commitment to train with us, I can't say I'm sorry." He broke off and grinned. "Though I wonder if mama Maou's are much like mama laundrywomen, when you skip out on your chores at home?"

That surprised Wolfram into laughing out loud. "You always pay the price for crossing the mama," he agreed. "Granted they dress differently for work."

"Yours looks better, for sure! Between Manfred and Cecilie, Wolfram, you've got _gorgeous_ parents – no surprise there…" Suddenly, in response to some cue Wolfram missed, Axel dropped his banter, shut Wolfram's dress clothes away in the footlocker, and stood to attention, in a single smooth sweep of motion, just before the door banged open. A grizzled middle-aged head barged one step up straight into Wolfram's bare chest, and retreated abruptly. Wolfram calmly continued buttoning his battle blouse, simply stepping aside to bid the older man enter.

With effort, Axel managed to keep a straight face. "Sergeant Buford!" he barked.

"At ease," the older man growled. "I see you've already met the… new training… Wolfram von Bielenfeld-kyo, I presume?"

"_Ha!"_ Axel replied, with the Shin Makoku armies' all-purpose equivalent of _yes, sir! – _good for officers and sergeants alike, or even cooks one wished to butter up.

"Until further notice, when this _gentleman_ is available, your squad will treat him _as-if_ he were a training officer. You understand _gentleman_ and _as-if_, Trooper?"

"_Ha!"_

"Von Bielenfeld-kyo, it's my understanding you'll be training all the Bielenfeld Horse the rest of the morning and all afternoon?"

"That was my understanding, yes, Sergeant Buford."

"Very good, sir. Axel, report to my quarters at and in lieu of lunch mess."

_"Ha!"_

"We thank you then for your kind assistance, sir." Buford bowed – as to a gentleman, not an officer – and took his leave.

Wolfram finished buttoning his last cuff and remarked, "I do believe your Sergeant Buford doesn't like me." Axel's eyes were tearing with mirth. "I didn't think it was that funny."

Axel wiped his eyes and replied, "Sergeant Buford wasn't expecting to meet our nuisance princeling half-naked in my bedroom. And you, you just on kept buttoning your shirt without a blink, cool as ice!"

Wolfram slowly blushed crimson. "Oh…" Axel just clapped him on the back and motioned for them to get a move on.

Despite – during – all the pomp and circumstance filling his past two days, Wolfram had taken time to think through a practice training plan. The men did standard calisthenics and a morning run while he was still sleeping – he could step right into majutsu training with them the rest of the day. There were about a dozen assembled today.

"Men," he addressed them. "This turned out more formal than we expected. Too bad I have no experience teaching. But my Chichiue teaches –" There were chuckles at that. Manfred was the most renowned teacher in Shin Makoku, on strength of teaching as well as personality. "He and my brother have taught me techniques that aren't widely known outside the Institute. The key to power in majutsu is focus – everyone knows that, right? But did they teach you_ how_ to focus, or just tell you to do it?" They looked uncertain. "I'd like a volunteer. Someone who thinks their talent is pretty strong, but could be better skilled." He hoped that should safely describe all of them.

"I'll go first if I have to, wimps," prodded Axel after a moment. At that, all four Wolfram had trained with before, plus Robair and Paol, stepped forward.

"Pyotr," decided Wolfram. "What's your specialty? Show us your signature." Every majutsu user had a small signature manifestation of their talent, performed for focus practice. Pyotr made a wobbly column of dirt stand up about two inches. Perfect for Wolfram's purposes – he had ability, but very poor control. "Good. Now, I'm going to annoy you, on purpose. Please bear with me, I'm trying to illustrate a point. And your focus will improve_ today_, I promise.

"I'd like you to stand on one foot. Good. The foot that's in the air, please twirl it. Nice. Now, also pat your head with your opposite hand." Wolfram half-expected the group to snigger, or Pyotr to deck him for ridiculing him, but discipline held. "Damn, Pyotr, your coordination is too good. Alright, extend your other hand and point to the castle. Now, without stopping the head patting or foot twirling, alternate between pointing to the castle and touching your nose." That did it – Pyotr stumbled off his one foot, to stand quietly, chest heaving, glaring at Wolfram.

Wolfram said, "Now show me your signature again."

Pyotr couldn't raise an anthill.

"Excellent," said Wolfram, "a perfect demonstration – thank you. _That_ is the effect of exhausted attention and weak focus. Exactly what I wanted you to demonstrate. Alright, the goal here was not to pick on Pyotr, but for us to have a common frame of reference to gauge our work today. Now I want everyone do the same thing – except you, Pyotr. You take a break and watch everyone else. This should make you feel better."

Most fell faster than Pyotr had. The exceptions were Axel and last of all, Paol, with the more extensive training of a healer, though still a young beginner. "Hm, you've trained at the Institute, haven't you, Paol?"

Paol smiled shyly. "Only a year. Manfred-sensei told me to look you up when I got here, but…"

"But you wimped out," finished Wolfram, earning Paol's grin. "I wish you _had_ come and seen me. Alright, let's see if I can beat Paol's performance. Pyotr, revenge time – lead me through it." First, Wolfram showed his signature. Unlike the weak signs of most of them, or even the quavering blue healing ball on Paol's hand, Wolfram's signature was a rock steady detailed orange flame blossom a hand's-breadth high, with blue flaming stamens – a Beautiful Wolfram blossom, in orange and blue. The group's eyes widened. Pyotr put him through even more contortions than Paol to get him to falter. Then he produced his signature again, a ragged flare endangering his hair for a moment. But where the rest of them had gotten disgusted and stopped, Wolfram held his gaze on his signature for half a minute, and the perfect blossom flame was back, rock steady.

"Whoa," said Axel, impressed. "Question, though – aren't you a healer? I thought healers all did blue spheres like Paol."

Wolfram vanished the fire flower with a simple hand flourish. "Fire healer. We're not very common. The blue stamens show the healing element within the flame. Takes a lot more training than a pure healer – the harm/heal dual nature is hard to control." He looked ruefully at Paol. "I've probably got another decade before I can do what you can as a healer."

Paol countered, "But when you do…"

Wolfram shrugged. "It's hard to compare. True healers don't have to _study_ so damned hard. Anyway, our goal here is to teach you focus. So, more ridiculous looking exercises. But I promise you, by the end of today, you _will_ have better focus. And with better focus, better control, and more power."

They practiced focus exercises until lunch, then Axel disappeared to meet Sergeant Buford. The squad pocketed extra food for him. Only later in the afternoon, while everyone was sitting in a circle, each juggling three points mentally, did Wolfram notice blood seeping through the back of Axel's shirt.

Wolfram tapped him out of the circle and told him to strip off the bloodied shirt. "Healing lashes isn't allowed, Wolfram," said Axel quietly. "Don't mind about it – I knew I was earning them and willingly paid. Not your fault."

Wolfram held him with his green gaze and soft smile. "I'm a _gentleman,_ remember? This wound is interfering with your training. Strip the shirt or I'll scorch it."

Wolfram swallowed, hard, watching Axel remove the shirt. Axel's facial features were pleasant enough – ordinary, with unruly curls of dark blond hair – but with the kind of infectious pleasure in other people that makes puppies irresistible. But his body… Axel was a strong youth, perfect abs over a narrow waist and rock-hard buns and legs, with chest and shoulders that could easily enfold a slighter youth like Wolfram. _Enfold?_ _Get it together, Wolfram, you're supposed to be teaching focus here, not losing it… _But he couldn't ignore it anymore. Axel was clearly attracted to him, and the feeling was getting very, very mutual. And unfortunately in fire healing, _passion_ came through clear as a bell. True healers healed with serenity. Fire healing manifested passion.

Axel turned his striped back to Wolfram, then looked over his shoulder as Wolfram hesitated. Wolfram centered himself, reached out, and put palm directly on the wound. Calling a touch like that _chemistry_ would be a vast understatement. Axel startled a little, and gulped, turned to look away. Fingers of fire lapped across his shoulders, along his spine, curled around his rib cage, caressed his belly. In a minute, it was over. Wolfram removed his hand.

Axel, sweating, blew out his breath, unaware that he'd been holding it. He breathed a half-laugh, and tried to pass it off with a joke. "That was quick – do I have to leave my shirt off –" and stopped as he felt his back, then chest. In that brief erotic sensation, Wolfram hadn't sped the healing of the lashes. They were _gone,_ along with every scar from every stripe of Axel's military career. _"Gone!?"_ he blurted out loud, spinning to stare at Wolfram in amazement. The other youths looked up and around at his outburst.

Wolfram wouldn't meet his eye in public. "Back to practice, everybody."

In late afternoon, Wolfram told everyone to goof off for ten minutes, take a walk or lie in the sun, or whatever they did to unwind. When they reconvened, he asked Pyotr to again show his signature. The column of dirt was twice as high, twice as thick, but more tellingly, it didn't so much as shiver. Everyone else eagerly tried their signatures, and each was delighted by the quality change in just one day.

"Alright, there's _anti-_homework," Wolfram said in closing. "If you'd done your signatures before goofing off, the results wouldn't have been as impressive. You need to kick back and not-practice, not-strain, not-review what we've done today. Just relax until we take it up again tomorrow. I, um," _I don't live in a barracks,_ "I'd read a book, take a bath, write a letter, paint…"

"Poker game'd be good," suggested Axel. "Or just a _couple_ beers at the tavern."

Wolfram smiled at him gratefully. "Right. Anything but focus practice. And from now on, we'll break the focus practice with a couple hours sword practice after lunch. I forced the pace a bit today, because I wanted you to see real results. But generally, forcing is counter-productive. So, kick back and enjoy your evening." And they cheered.

Back in Axel's room, Wolfram paused uncertain. Should he grab his clothes and go as-is? Should he join them in the mess hall again? Should he…

"Wolfram?" said Axel. "I hope you're not offended, but… I'm really attracted to you, and I was wondering… those flames earlier… is there any chance…" He put his hands tentatively on Wolfram's upper arms. "Any chance the feeling is…?"

"Mutual," breathed Wolfram. And raised his stunning emerald green eyes to meet Axel's kind hazel ones, and moved his mouth just a little closer… Axel pulled him the rest of the way for a strong, deep kiss, enfolding Wolfram in his arms just as he'd imagined that afternoon.

"Change here," breathed Axel in his ear, licking the lobe in a way that sent sensation piercing straight down the center of Wolfram's torso. "I promise not to touch below the belt – not tonight, anyway." And they ended up eating alone together at the tavern, because even touching, exploring, tasting only above the belt, they were altogether too late for evening mess.

-oOo-

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	3. The Bielenfeld Way

Kyou Kara Maou : Axel

Summary: Wolfram tells his father about his first love affair, in the dark days after Suzanna Julia died, when Wolfram turned his back on healing and became a soldier. Yuuri appears in later chapters. Side story to The Bedding of Wolfram.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Warnings: rated M for mature sexual theme. No spoilers – most of the characters / plot here never appear in the anime.

_Please review._

_Update: just cleaning up._

Chapter 3 : The Bielenfeld Way

The weeks, then months, passed happily. Wolfram had rarely had playmates, mostly rare visits with one or two noble children his age. Gwendal was older beyond reach, Conrad close in age, but as a half Mazoku, had grown up into a man while Wolfram remained a child. The days spent practicing with the Bielenfeld youths were some of the most fun he'd ever had. The nights he stole away with Axel were a wonderland of a different order.

Accidentally, Cheri supplied her own alibi for Wolfram's time with the garrison. One morning he carried some anatomy and physiology books to loan to Paol. "Ah! Are those for a special someone at the army hospital?" she asked with a wink. "You have the bloom of young love on you these days, Wolfie. Ah, my baby's growing up!"

"Ah, yes. I've formed a study group with some friends my age from Bielenfeld."

"Wonderful! Just what you need at your age." Cheri nodded firmly and clasped him to her bosom in an embarrassing clench. "Just don't leave your poor mother alone all the time, will you, sweet Wolfie?" So Wolfram was sure to be there for her on state occasions and most nights, and never really lied.

Sir Chaswick and Sergeant Buford gave Wolfram a wide margin. There was little enough for the troops to do, that ignoring the orphaned Bielenfeld baby cavalry was easiest for them. Buford started to stripe Axel's back again once, for some infraction on Mikka's part, but when he saw how completely Wolfram had erased Axel's past lashes, he decided it was safer for his career not to cross the Maou's baby boy by hurting his suspected lover.

And the squad's majutsu improved. After a few months, other established majustsu troops started requesting mock duels. Axel, the most mature of the group to start with, was second only to Wolfram in fighting magic as well as the sword. Wind and fire user, the pair worked particularly well in combination attacks. Wolfram himself improved most of all, working every day at his fighting skills, instead of the dilettante treatment more suitable for his rank at court. Paol's superiors at the hospital were even considering recommending Paol to the 5 year course of study at the Institute. Wolfram's healing skills, though, lay unstudied and unused, save for minor cuts and scrapes.

Inevitably, one day someone mentioned to Cheri the burgeoning fighting skills "Wolfram's" troop was showing. The Maou, wearing her very highest cut at the leg, lowest cut at the breast, slinky black dress, and fine jewels, marched onto the practice field. Classy Cheri didn't tear into him there, but simply bade him accompany her home.

Wolfram followed Cheri in silence all the way to her bedroom. She sat at her vanity and handed him a brush to do her hair. "I'm hurt by your dishonesty, Wolfram," she began at last. "I'd so hoped I could keep _you_ at least safe, as a courtier and a healer."

Wolfram brushed her hair just as she liked it, from decades of experience. _It's time,_ he decided. "I'm thinking of seeking a commission as a Bielenfeld officer. It's been over a year, and Lord Bielenfeld hasn't even replaced the officers of the Regiment. Bielenfeld is slipping farther and farther away from Shin Makoku."

"But Wolfie, you _are_ the liaison from Bielenfeld. Your great uncle trusts you as his representative…"

"I'm a convenient fiction. Lord Bielenfeld rightly sees me as your creature. Leaving the Regiment orphaned, and me as his powerless representative here, he can bow out of Shin Makoku without confrontation. A real bridge needs firm footing on _both_ sides of the river, Hahaue. Now, I'm only on _your_ side, in great uncle Friedrich's eyes. Bielenfeld and I barely know each other!"

"But why as a _soldier_, Wolfie? Fire healers are so rare and precious, almost unknown outside Bielenfeld, the pure Mazoku bastion. They can respect you just as much for that."

"As an officer, I'd put my life on the line for Bielenfeld. I'd have real ties, not just polite fictions. And… I want to fight, not heal, Hahaue. Please give me your blessing to seek a commission? From _Bielenfeld_, not Shin Makoku or Spitzweg."

Cheri handed him combs to arrange her hair. "…Alright, Wolfie, provided your father agrees." She held up a hand to forestall his objection. "You'll go to Bielenfeld for training, visit with your father, and seek his opinion both politically and as a healer. And I'll bypass my brother's counsel on the issue by saying I need to give Manfred his say. Take your friends along as guards on the road, to return with you. The poor children deserve a visit home – they're little more than hostages now."

"Thank you, Hahaue," Wolfram breathed. "I'll write –"

Cheri spun around to clasp him and bury her face in his chest. "Just come home to me as soon as you can, and stay safe. My baby."

Thus Wolfram rode off to Bielenfeld with Axel's squad of junior cavalry as escort. He carried a carefully worded letter from Cheri requesting Lord Bielenfeld give her son a commission if Manfred approved. Cheri hoped, and Wolfram feared, that the anti-political fire healer Manfred would _not_ approve of Wolfram ditching healing. That assumption was shattered on Wolfram's first night at his father's, over a bottle of wine.

"Well, you're too young to be a fire healer," Manfred said matter-of-factly. "You can do whatever you want and have time for that later."

"What?" said Wolfram stupidly.

"_What_ what. You know what fire healing is like. I can understand being a bit shy, but pretending you haven't noticed is like ignoring a killer Koala in the living room. Give it a half century or so for the testosterone levels to burn lower. At your age, I fought alongside Adelbert. Stayed a soldier until I lost the leg, used to give a power assist to the true healers after battles here and there. Always liked studying, of course. As for building a bridge between Bielenfeld and Spitzweg and Shin Makoku…" Manfred shrugged and applied himself to his wine.

"…Why didn't you marry Hahaue?" Wolfram asked. "I know I've asked before…"

"But the answer keeps changing?" Manfred suggested. "You're growing up, pretty vixen. It's your ability to understand the answer that keeps changing.

"Cecilie and I… Shinou requested the union, and neither of us would defy the temple, of course. Your soul is pure Bielenfeld. We of Bielenfeld are always reborn to Bielenfeld. It's said your soul was once Rufus von Bielenfeld himself, staunch champion of the Great One at the founding of Shin Makoku. You'd know better than I whether that's true. In any case, that far Cecilie and I could go, and no further. My uncle despises Cecilie, and especially your Uncle Stoeffel. If I were even a little closer to the succession, I wouldn't have been allowed to acknowledge you as my son. It took until you were nearly ten years old as it was."

Wolfram blinked. _That_ he hadn't known. Most of this, it was true, he'd heard in bits and drabs, but hadn't put it together and understood before now.

"Anyway, since we were forbidden to marry politically, to some extent your mother and I chose to remain distant. Of course," he grinned evilly, "given our personalities, that was easiest in any case. But you were ordained by the Great One, Wolfram. And you've always been very much wanted, by Cecilie and myself."

"Thank you, Chichiue." Wolfram smiled, then grew thoughtful. "Do you believe that's my mission in life? Shinou wanted me to repair the ties between Bielenfeld and Shin Makoku?"

"A sadly utilitarian view of your existence, pretty vixen. Let Shinou worry about Shinou's schemes. What to make of your life is up to you, whether your relatives are lords or bread bakers."

"So you'll petition Lord Bielenfeld for a commission for me?"

"Hell, no. You want to lead men to their deaths, you'd damn well better deserve it first. I'll recommend you for officer's training, if you want. If you want a commission from my uncle, your best bet is to train here until he gives you one to get rid of you. Cecilie has neatly hamstrung his fictions by sending back his pretty young hostages with you. Don't waste the gesture. Indeed, I hope you appreciate this situation. It's not often you get _both _of your strong-minded parents to tell you a decision is up to you."

Wolfram laughed. "Thank you, Chichiue. Do you… ever mind? That I grew up with Hahaue instead of you?"

"Do you? Not fair to Wolfram… No, not really. You're my son, not my property. It's a privilege to help you grow, become your own man. It's easier for me to let go than it is for Cecilie. But know that whenever you need me, or even just want me, I'm here for you, no matter what. And Bielenfeld is truly your home, whenever you want it."

-oOo-

The armies of Shin Makoku and the Ten Aristocrats were rather flat in structure. Mazoku were long-lived, and the military was typically a lifelong career. Officers were such by virtue of high birth and commensurate high education and connections. Ordinary soldiers found niches they liked and were good at, rather than seeking promotion. In between were a very few sergeants, perhaps one to every twenty to fifty soldiers. There was no such thing as officer's training school. To seek 'officer's training in Bielenfeld' meant finding a Bielenfeld officer to mentor him. Ideally, one willing to carry his apprenticeship back to Blood Pledge Castle by assuming command of the Bielenfeld Regiment there.

He bid the squad go home and catch up with family while he caught up with his, grateful that in Axel's case, that meant they'd both be at Bielenfeld castle for a while. Manfred came along to help. At first, Wolfram didn't realize how badly he'd need that help.

By the end of the first week, he'd, a) found that the _only_ interest he shared with Great-Uncle Friedrich von Bielenfeld was painting, b) learned that Friedrich was the most passive-aggressive and evasive human being he'd ever met, and c) if there were any trained officers in the entirety of Bielenfeld other than the retired Manfred, Friedrich wasn't going to admit it. But Wolfram was, naturally, welcome to a commission whenever he'd like, _delightful_ great-nephew that he was. Regimental commander, for instance. Surely Gwendal could train him?

"Well, _I'll_ train you if I have to," said Manfred. "That doesn't solve your regimental commander problem, though. With this leg, I'm as retired as they come."

"Well, I could have Axel and the others ask around for officers – good ones. If Great-Uncle won't provide one… maybe we can pick our own. Have them ask after sergeants, too. Maybe even a good sergeant, who could be promoted to officer?"

"Well, you'll also need sergeants, of course. Good thinking, Wolfram."

"Sergeants don't become officers?"

"Not in Bielenfeld, they don't." And Wolfram had to admit, that was in keeping with bucolic Bielenfeld, the land that time forgot. A good nine tenths of the population lived on plantations, owned by minor von Whatnot. When he complained of the lack of any nightlife, Axel said people mostly socialized with their friends and relatives. ("I have friends and relatives," Wolfram said hopefully. "He meant ones you knew from the cradle," clarified Manfred.) The place was so insular and tradition-bound, Wolfram could imagine walking into the same corner bakery as his ancestor Rufus von Bielenfeld, and talking to the same soul Rufus bought bread from four thousand years before. ("I know that bakery," agreed Manfred.)

"Chichiue… you're an intelligent man. How can you _stand_ it here?"

"I partied with Adelbert practically from birth. _Now_, of course, I live at the Institute – that's the Mazoku intellectual crossroads of the world. However, you'll notice _that_ is not kept _here_. And… sorry, pretty vixen, but it's about time for _me_ to go back _there_. So, let me know if I can help…"

So everyone put their feelers out, Manfred escaped back to the Institute, and Wolfram settled into painting every day with Great-Uncle Friedrich, encouraging the man to expound at length about every conceivable detail about life in Bielenfeld and family history. Friedrich bonded with Wolfram by turning him on to the Bielenfeld noble style of abstract painting, rather than that _vulgarly over-literal realism_ he'd been taught in Shin Makoku. And the honey-bee-bear excrement paints, with far more brilliant colors and quicker drying times than the tedious oils he'd learned with. Wolfram found the brighter, brasher style with fast-drying paints suited his temperament quite well. Though the paint reeked. And it did give him _something_ to share with Friedrich.

_It's no wonder every generation produces its share of soldiers and adventurers – anything to get _out_ of this place,_ thought Wolfram. Axel spent his days with friends and family he'd known from the cradle, and the evenings, they had all to themselves. That was a good consolation prize to soothe Wolfram's impatience.

In another week or so, he and Axel rode out to the Institute to share their findings with Manfred and consult on strategy.

"Von Dienst, eh?" said Manfred, unenthused. "Nobody else?"

"Sorry, sir," said Axel, "I think he's the best we've got. There's old von Tarkenburg, Sergeant Griesel, Commander Mikhail, von Probst… Lots of inspired Gratz officers, of course."

"Well, that's a fallback position," allowed Manfred. "Better than Shin Makoku."

"So, do we ride for Dienst and introduce ourselves?" suggested Wolfram.

"Not in Bielenfeld, you don't," came the oft-repeated refrain.

"You never visit a plantation without an invitation," explained Axel. "And to get an invitation…"

"Let me guess, you'd need to be a _friend_ or _relative_, from the _cradle_."

"I think I shall hold an Academic Meeting, to seek advice on how to train my son as an officer, and invite _them,_" said Manfred. "You can demonstrate your majutsu and sword training… To coincide with the Horticultural Festival and Bielenfeld Beautiful Boy Pageant. I'm afraid that's not for another month."

"To coincide with… _what?_ You _are_ kidding, aren't you?" complained Wolfram.

"Any other contestants from your squad, I hope?" inquired Manfred.

"Paol and Robair and Wolfram could _sweep_ the Pageant," Axel claimed confidently. "Pyotr and Mikka like to fiddle with potato variants."

"That'll help," said Manfred. "Wolfram, you might as well re-form the squad here in the meantime and get on with your training, with them, and under me, for now. You are now officially an officer cadet. Congratulations. And hopefully… we'll capture von Dienst next month. God help you."

Wolfram's first officer's training assignment was to write to Cheri and uninvite her to the annual Horticultural Festival – her favorite event of the year. He tried to soften the blow with a detailed sardonic account of the diplomatic situation, and one of his gaudy new abstract paintings. He refrained from mentioning that he was a contender for this year's Bielenfeld Beautiful Boy, lest she be doubly disappointed at the disinvitation. He devoutly hoped she didn't share the letter with Stoeffel and Gwendal. Stoeffel would demand his butt back at Blood Pledge Castle yesterday, and escalate hostilities with Great Uncle Friedrich. Gwendal, he feared, would never, ever consider Wolfram a _real_ officer.

-oOo-

"What in _hell_ made you choose _von Dienst_ as our best choice for an officer!" Wolfram hissed at Axel in bed a month later, having met the gentleman that day. The squad was staying at Viel's family inn at the Institute, Axel with his own room as usual. Which Wolfram visited almost nightly. "The man's the worst lech I've ever met!"

"Did he touch you?" Axel asked, surprised and concerned.

"No… He just… ogled me." Axel _ogled_ Wolfram, every inch an _ogle_, until Wolfram laughed. "OK, OK, it's tolerable. But _why?_"

"He's bizarre, but he's smart. Every conflict he's been in, his troops come through with less than half the projected casualties. His _ogling_ is legendary, but they say he never touches his troops… um, nobody mentioned junior officers. He's fair, makes sure his men get the best of everything. He has contingency plans for his contingency plans, and doubles them on his supply lines. The guy's just brilliant, Wolfram. And he puts it all into thinking about his troops and his objectives, constantly. Sergeant Griesel's been with him from day one, knows him perfectly, compensates perfectly. People say sergeants just don't come any better. Of course… we talked to troopers, not officers. They don't have to _talk_ to von Dienst every day like you would. But be fair, Wolfram – you met the other candidates today, too."

Wolfram had. Von Dienst was an incorrigible lech whose conversation featured sexual innuendo about plant breeding, hence Manfred's choice of venue. Granted, when the conversation wandered to military, majutsu, or healing topics, Wolfram gained a usable insight every five minutes. But then von Dienst shot it all to hell by waxing poetic about crossing Wolfram's cheeks and peach fuzz. But von Tarkenburg was already ancient when Manfred was a boy, and his memory freely mixed the centuries. Commander Mikhail seemed inclined to give ten lashes as a preventative measure, fifty if someone looked at him funny. Von Probst seemed timid and indecisive, and catastrophic casualty records proved he was worse under pressure. And the best of them, Sergeant Griesel, was a Bielenfeld-style cradle buddy of von Dienst.

"Why doesn't this domain produce any good officers?"

Axel gave him a harsh look for that. "It _does_. It _did_. They _died_, Wolfram. Or were forced to retire, like Manfred, or Friedrich's son Aldrich, and even von Gratz, in a way. The Bielenfeld Regiment went through five officers and seven sergeants, and four regiments' worth of men, before Friedrich simply refused to waste any more Bielenfeld lives on Stoeffel's wars."

Seeing Wolfram felt targeted by his vehemence, Axel softened this with kisses to brow and nose and mouth before continuing. "Friedrich's a canny old woman. I bet he figured those of us stuck in Shin Makoku were safer as unused orphans than under Mikhail or von Probst. Von Tarkenburg deserves to enjoy his senility in peace. And von Dienst… I think he held von Dienst in reserve, because he was the only good one left. That's what I figure, anyway."

Wolfram snuggled his face into Axel's collarbone, and said quietly, "You sound like you agree with Friedrich's choice, Axel. Are you sure you agree with what I'm trying to do?"

Axel didn't answer immediately. He held Wolfram tight and nuzzled his hair, thinking. "Yeah, I do. Bielenfeld can't just… _duck out_ of Shin Makoku. We _founded_ Shin Makoku. And _you'd_ make an _excellent_ officer, I'm sure of it. Like at that party for Brendan von Gratz. Somehow… we've got to heal this last war, put Shin Makoku back together again. Hey, I'm just a trooper, and my little corner is just a bit part in that big thing. You got a bigger bit. I think this is the right thing to do with our bits. If you want to be a soldier. If that made sense."

-oOo-

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	4. Victory

Kyou Kara Maou : Axel

Summary: Wolfram tells his father about his first love affair, in the dark days after Suzanna Julia died, when Wolfram turned his back on healing and became a soldier. Yuuri appears in later chapters. Side story to The Bedding of Wolfram.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Warnings: rated M for mature sexual theme. No spoilers – most of the characters / plot here never appear in the anime.

_Please review._

_Update: just cleaning up._

Chapter 4 : Victory

Wolfram stood inwardly roiling, waiting for the Bielenfeld Beautiful Boy Pageant to get underway, but no one would know it to look at him. Not-fidgeting was a basic courtier's skill, learned at his mother's knee through interminable state functions. The competition picked at unfamiliar finery and chattered anxiously. Wolfram confidently wore his usual state function variant of Bielenfeld officer's dress uniform, with his favorite tasteful ransom's worth of gold and emerald eye-enhancing jewelry. He already had the finest tailors and fabrics, flawlessly rendered, perfectly fitted. His absolute best look was refined on a daily basis, his everyday skin and hair care regimens meticulous. After all, that was the career he was trying to _escape_ – Hahaue's best dress-up doll.

His basic strategy to win this thing was to look himself, beautiful and aloof, until a strategic judging moment, then stun everyone with a smile. The competition was pretty enough, but aside from the two he'd personally coached, they were bumpkin clueless in the deportment department.

Paol and Robair were late. He didn't care to admit it, but it hurt even more that _Axel_ was late. Von Dienst had airily told Wolfram last night _'not to worry your pretty head about the troop for the day, concentrate on winning the Pageant for the Regiment!' _He didn't realize that meant the lot of them would _disappear_ for the day. There was nothing to concentrate_ on_. Wolfram had decades of practice at standing there looking cute.

"_Boo_," said Axel, having snuck up behind him. Wolfram allowed himself the slightest narrowing of subtly teal-penciled eyes as he turned nonchalantly. His cool hiss died as he saw Axel in civvies instead of the perpetual blue uniform. It was like seeing him again for the first time. He'd chosen a short tawny jacket with shoulder pads and a ruff, topping sprayed-on brown leather pants, with fold-down soft suede tan boots, a look that showed off his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and muscular legs to perfection. His hair was freshly cut and styled, curly mop feathered to smooth waves at the sides, a playful ration of longer curls remaining at top and duck tail, molded to stay put. His affable plain broad face was shaved and scrubbed to Wolfram's exacting standards. His invariant simple ear stud was replaced by a gold and silver twist, from which a lustrous hazel pearl dangled, matching his eyes. Wolfram _needed_ to nibble that pearl. _Now. _

Axel's eyes danced merrily. "Thought I'd dress as your date tonight. _Discreetly, _of course. On the off chance you win."

Wolfram felt his eyes would cross with the effort of staying cool. _'Discreetly' is wildly, maddeningly sexier than 'openly'. Just a couple hours. Then I _devour_ him._ He licked his lips once, then casually glanced around for Paol and Robair.

Robair's uncle's wedding finery suited him well, snowy linens and smokey violets and lavenders highlighting his vivid magenta eyes. Paol's gambit was his Shin Makoku issue healer's full dress uniform, green shoulders over white draped swathing, piped in gilt. Wolfram was gratified to see both had mastered the tri-shade rose lip staining Wolfram and Cheri had refined over the years as an undetectable youth's version of Cheri's kiss-me lips pattern. Both must have visited the same inspired hairdresser as Axel.

"Sorry we're late," continued Axel. "I had an errand in castle town, Robair fetched the wedding suit, then the barber… So, still think you stand a chance against Robair? I dunno…"

"Don't. Make me. Smile. Yet." Wolfram managed this with expression and tone suitable for asking someone to pass the salt. "I'm relieved you're finally here. Now take a seat. Preferably at the back. Behind someone really large. Could you do that for me. Axel."

Axel skeddaddled. Wolfram filed onto stage with the group. He did the _poise _while he stood there on passive display for 45 minutes waiting his turn, without a twitch, in a flawlessly aloof almost-pout. His turn. He did the _walk_. He did the _husky bedroom voice_. He gave the false-modesty, false-ingenue version of his goals. "_To be a bridge between my father's and my mother's people, and serve all the people of Shin Makoku, by becoming the very best officer I can."_ He ignored the fit of coughing from Axel and the squad. He did the _demure look_, down and to the left. He did the _hair toss_, back up to center. And when the rapt audience thought he was done, plus two heartbeats, he flashed the _bishounen smile_, with nearly invisible _fire-healer halo_. He finished with the _brief smoldering glance_ at the judges. He did the _walk_ back to his place in line.

He won by a landslide. Robair and Paol took second and third.

Von Dienst fairly flew to congratulate him on his victory, grasping Wolfram's hands in rapture. "Tears, cadet! See me wiping these _tears_ from my eyes?" Yup, Wolfram saw – his brilliantly cracked new mentor was leaking down the cheeks – nose running, too. "That was the most… _inspiring_ display of leadership charisma and military potential I've ever seen. Bravo, von Bielenfeld! _Bravo!_"

Wolfram did the _demure downward glance_. The small _confidential smile_. Axel came up behind von Dienst and did the _boyfriend looks daggers – cool it before you land in the wrong bed tonight. _Wolfram belatedly got his attitude off-stage and did a quick reverse to _adolescent awkward_. Manfred hobbled the _quick hide_, so he could laugh his ass off without jeopardizing his son's career.

Fairly soon, Manfred made a point of telling Wolfram he wouldn't be home that night – enjoy free run of the place. Not a few women had noticed that though Wolfram exuded off-limits, Manfred was a near clone, and not one bit the ingenue. Father and son shared a perfectly matched _evil demon smile_. And first Axel, then Wolfram, snuck away just as soon as they possibly could.

Hours later, luxuriantly toying with Wolfram's belly in Manfred's bachelor pad bath, Axel said, "You know, the amazing thing about von Dienst's praise – it's perfectly true. Warped, but true. You can play an audience like a flute. When your temper's in check, at least." He nipped Wolfram's nipple. "Show me again – _full bishounen smile."_

Axel had him run through his full repertoire, multiple times, as though committing every nuance to memory. They made love and played and talked and bathed and made love again until the sun rose. While they changed Manfred's sheets in the morning, before he headed back to Viel's inn for breakfast, Axel dropped the first bombshell.

"Oh, Wolfram, by the way. Von Dienst wants us to assemble at oh-nine-hundred. Full dress uniform."

Wolfram launched himself with a pillow to tackle Axel. "You _swine! _We did it? Axel, did we really manage it?"

"Looks like, Wolfram." Axel's eyes seemed overfull with emotion, but so were Wolfram's. They exchanged a long, deep, lingering kiss, and Axel took his leave.

Despite the sleepless night, Wolfram felt he was walking on air to the assembly. And just as he'd hoped, von Dienst announced he was assuming command of the Bielenfeld Regiment at Blood Pledge Castle, company to depart day after next. All hands on leave until nineteen hundred tomorrow, to start immediately following assembly. The troop cheered, led by Sergeant Griesel.

Then with great panache, von Dienst presented Wolfram with his officer's commission, signed by Lord Friedrich. Tacky of Friedrich not to present it in person, but no matter. Next von Dienst admonished him that the greatest treasure and asset to any officer, but especially a green one, was a seasoned sergeant. Wolfram's denial held firm – was von Dienst loaning him Griesel?

"Fortunately, this troop has the _ideal_ sergeant – Axel?" Axel stepped forward, the second bombshell. Mind moving like molasses, Wolfram took five heartbeats, ten, to register that indeed Axel's uniform had sergeant's insignia, that hadn't been there the day before last. And yesterday… Axel, then later Axel's uniform, had gone missing.

Owing to his new commander's stupor, Axel mercifully began his new career by speaking out of turn. "Congratulations, Sir!" _Wake up, Wolfram, say your lines._

_Don't make your sergeant cover your gaffe, idiot,_ Wolfram chided himself. "Pardon me, Sergeant, you surprised me." He saluted smartly. "Congratulations on _your _promotion, Sergeant Axel! Richly deserved!"

"Thank you, sir. And on behalf of the entire troop, congratulations on your commission, Sir. Hip, hip –" _HOORAY!_ Axel led the company in cheering Wolfram. And with minor near-telepathic prompting, Axel nudged Wolfram to lead the company in cheering their new regimental commander. Griesel, smiling benevolently, couldn't, because in theory he'd just been placed outside their chain of command. In practice, Axel was at his mercy for the foreseeable future.

Denial beginning to unravel badly, Wolfram nevertheless managed a _confidential half smile_ and personal word with each trooper as he carried out inspection. Axel was last. With Axel, the only man on the field he was truly conscious of, he shared an honest searching look, and dropped his gaze to cover real emotion. "I'd like to see you in my quarters for a word before leave, Sergeant. As soon as I'm available."

_"Ha!"_ Axel barked.

Wolfram winced. _Hell, I just chewed out my new sergeant at my own promotion ceremony…_ He looked to von Dienst for permission to dismiss, receiving a nod in return. Axel led the men in another cheer, and they wandered out of earshot of the officers, Griesel clapping Axel on the back and joining them.

Von Dienst chuckled, "After your never-melt-butter performance last night, I was afraid our little surprise wouldn't get a reaction out of you. Ha ha! I trust you're pleased with your new sergeant? Griesel assures me he's the best."

"He is. The very best."

Von Dienst smiled at him kindly. "Do be sure to apologize to him, won't you? It's rather an insult to send all the men on leave, but oh sergeant, I want a _word_ with _you_, you know?" Wolfram nodded penitently. "Well, I hope you'll forgive me for missing your celebration with Lord Friedrich tonight. I think I ought to visit my wife before we decamp." And with a wink, von Dienst was off.

And Wolfram was alone. The troop was joking around, laughing, making plans, rough-housing. A few jokers did the chicken-dance manifestation, a silly majutsu cooperative drill they'd dreamed up. As an officer, it was absolutely inappropriate for Wolfram to join his men at playtime, ever again. Wolfram nodded to them stiffly, in case any were looking, and walked back to his father's house. Alone with his sword, as he'd been the day Axel befriended him half a year ago. _Axel was right. This job is going to take every ounce of shallow acting skill I've got. Axel… _

But his mind skittered away from Axel. He wandered lost into Manfred's empty dining room, feeling vaguely that an empty table was a good "office" for this interview. For some reason, his mind wandered to dour brother Gwendal. He'd always secretly suspected Gwendal was laughing at him behind his back. At this blank table, with this blank new future stretching before him, the only real friends he'd ever had stretched behind him, he thought otherwise. _Gwendal must be incredibly lonely. If you laugh at me, Gwendal… I'd be glad you could laugh._

Axel must have torn himself loose from the playpile as soon as he socially could, for fairly soon he knocked, entered, saluted. "Sir."

"At ease, Sergeant," Wolfram said, attempting a smile. "Have a seat, Axel."

Axel licked his lip. "I'd… prefer to stand. Sir. Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Of course. But, first… I owe you an apology. I asked you here socially, and I shouldn't have asked you that way. You just… surprised me. I'm sorry."

Axel smiled sadly. "I understand. Sir."

Wolfram prodded, "Permission to speak freely? Your turn."

"Sir, with respect, for the good of the troop… for our own good… I believe our… personal relationship… is over now. Sir."

Wolfram stared at him, panic edging into anger. "You… last night… you blindsided me. You lied to me. Now you're dumping me? God _damn_ it, Axel! You knew… _all_ of this! And you told me _nothing!_"

"Sir… Wolfram…" Axel looked away. "I thought… I wanted one last night together. Really together. If we'd both known it was the last night… Well. It would have been a very different night. Because you didn't know… I could pretend I didn't. It was selfish. But I thought it would make a better good-bye. And then, the bad good-bye… this one… I'd just… stand here and take it. Sir."

"We don't have to –"

"With respect, we _do_ have to. Sir."

"Did Griesel -- ?"

"This was my decision, sir. But… Griesel also spoke to me about it yesterday afternoon, on von Dienst's behalf. I had last night's leave, then when I put on my uniform this morning, we were over as lovers. It's irrevocable. It's… also the right choice, sir."

"For _whom?_" Wolfram banged his fist on the table, losing control of his anguish momentarily. A brief sheet of flame skated across. No harm done – it was a marble table top.

"Sir – Wolfram. Damn it, for this conversation… Wolfram. It was always going to end this way. Surely you knew that? You're highest aristocracy. I'm a simple soldier. Your marriage might be for love or politics, but it will be to an aristocrat. I'll end up with a soldier's daughter, or another soldier. We had something to do together, you and I… No. We _have_ something to do together. We've only now _begun!_ But as lovers – that was doomed from the start. You must know that. _Damn_ it, Wolfram!"

Axel's voice dropped to a pleading whisper. "Don't make me wrong for this alone. I know I'm the elder, more experienced. I know I started it. But, please Wolfram, don't put it all on me. You're breaking my heart. _Please_ tell me you understand."

"Yes. Intellectually. I understand. And I know that you're right. And it's my fault… not yours… that I didn't – that I didn't _want_ to – see this coming."

_Don't say 'dismissed',_ Wolfram begged himself. _I can't hold him, can't kiss him good-bye, but damn it, I can't just kick him out so I can have a good cry, either. Somehow, we have to – no _I _have to, it's_ my_ job – plot a route to get from here to a commander / sergeant relationship. It's the least he deserves. This is Axel. I can trust him. What he could do, he's done right. Just… keep talking a while. For now._

"Yesterday," Wolfram said conversationally, "that was the errand in castle town that you disappeared for? Your promotion ceremony? I'm very sorry I missed that."

"Yes," said Axel gratefully. "You… were supposed to be invited. I asked Griesel to fix it so your ceremony was after the Pageant. But that meant you missed my promotion and didn't get the fancy speech from Friedrich. But I thought… it'd go better this way."

"Thank you," Wolfram breathed. "I intend to trust your judgment implicitly, Sergeant. Shinou help us if you return the honor – I'm green as grass. So… nice speech, then?"

"Yeah, great speech. Thought I'd cry – a lot of the guys did. Including von Dienst and Griesel." _That _riveted Wolfram's attention.

"Friedrich said my promotion was three years overdue. I was recommended by Commander von Liszt and Sergeants Abram and Dovid the first time, but they died before Friedrich even got their letters, so he left the decision to the next commander. Then von Eriks and Sergeant Bionde recommended me as soon as they got settled in. They died while Friedrich's approval letter was on its way. Commander Chaswick and Sergeant Buford inherited the letter eventually, and wrote back to Friedrich endorsing the promotion. But they requested confirmation, since by then, in effect, it would be an automatic field commission straight from junior trooper to Regimental Commander, because I'd be the only Bielenfeld above the rank of trooper. So Friedrich told them no. He didn't want a green sergeant left – quote – _holding the bag for an entire broken regiment, in the most thoroughly fucked-up disaster of a military compaign he'd ever seen _– unquote. So he requested Chaswick find a way to treat me as if I were a sergeant, but postpone the promotion indefinitely.

"When von Dienst agreed to take you on as a cadet, he had Griesel look into why I wasn't a sergeant yet, and _they_ recommended me for immediate promotion. I'm afraid von Dienst also spoke out of turn, sir. He claimed you _also_ intended to recommend me for promotion, as soon as you had the right. Probably not true, but…

"So Friedrich _apologized_ to me. He handed me three years' sergeant's back pay, retroactive to my first reccomendation for promotion, plus 50 percent bonus, and a medal." Axel pulled the medal out of his pocket and shyly extended it to Wolfram. "It's really a Bielenfeld medal of valor, which doesn't apply, but… Friedrich said it was for _stunning creativity and the resourcefulness to find a way where there was none_, holding the squad together and getting us advanced training. A fair bit of this medal was for catching _you_, sir. And for _you_ catching von Dienst, I think. It's your medal, too."

"Not at all, Sergeant. I owe you at least as much as the rest of the squad. More… I was just a lonely kid looking for someone to play with. I probably would have even wimped out of that. You're the one who saw the possibilities." He handed Axel's medal back. "Well earned. Richly deserved. And a lot better officers than me concur – you're one hell of a sergeant. I'm very sorry I missed that speech. But not at all sorry you rigged it the way you did. Thank you."

They fell into silence a minute._ Dismiss him now?_ _Tell him… I love him?_ "Axel, I – thank you. There aren't words – well. There are, but perhaps they shouldn't be said now. Thank you, for _everything_. I've never owed anyone such a debt."

"No. It was a gift, not a loan. I got as good as I gave, and more. …Thank you, too. Sir."

_Now. That's enough for now._ Wolfram stood. "Have a great leave, then, Sergeant. Give my love to your mother in case I don't see her." _As though I'd run into the laundry woman at a dinner party for von Bielenfeld peers… _"I'm… looking forward to a bright future for the troop. We'll have time enough to talk about plans, on the road to Shin Makoku."

"Yes, sir. Good leave, sir." Axel saluted and left.

-oOo-

"You eventually came home and took me to Friedrich's reception, while Griesel threw a big bash for Axel and the squad at Viel's inn. Axel definitely got the better party... We never touched each other again. The End."

"Mm, no. Keep going," said Manfred. "You haven't found the end yet."

"It damned well _was_ the end of my love affair with Axel. What _is_ it with your fetish for the beginning and end of everything?"

"You can't see it whole if you're only looking at the middle. When you can see it whole, you can handle it."

"We both know full well what the end was. Axel went berserk and got himself killed. I was unconscious at the time. We didn't chat."

"Well, that may have re-opened the story on Axel's part, then sadly closed it for him. But that's supposition, and it's not yourstory. The task was to tell me the story of _your_ relationship with Axel."

"I told you – I never touched him again after that day."

"Mm… Nor anyone else. Not even your fiancé. For twenty years. I'm sorry, son, but you haven't found the end yet. Keep going."

-oOo-

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	5. I Love You

Kyou Kara Maou : Axel

Summary: Wolfram tells his father about his first love affair, in the dark days after Suzanna Julia died, when Wolfram turned his back on healing and became a soldier. Yuuri appears in later chapters. Side story to The Bedding of Wolfram.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Warnings: rated M for mature sexual theme. No spoilers – most of the characters / plot here never appear in the anime.

_Please review._

_Update: just cleaning up._

Chapter 5 : "I Love You"

They settled into a routine after the troop got back to Blood Pledge Castle. Von Dienst focused on rehabilitating the surviving infantry. He bid Wolfram continue with the cavalry majutsu training half-time, and apply himself to his studies and paperwork and court duties the other half-time. The two officers had lunch about once a week alone together, and another lunch meeting a week with Sergeants Griesel and Axel. The elders loved the juniors' majutsu training, and regularly cycled a few infantry through for training. The juniors were enthralled by how their seniors went about taking the demoralized and dejected scraps of the once-proud Bielenfeld Regiment Infantry, and molding them back into a combat-ready force.

The lower-class infantry was also fascinatingly different territory from the essentially middle class cavalry. Though Axel's people were lower-class and infantry, his late father's commander kindly bought Axel's way into the cavalry, buying horse and kit to set the boy up in life. As a result, though the best fighter in the unit, Axel was still the weakest horseman. Griesel ordered him to _fix that now_, and Robair started giving Axel remedial riding lessons.

Wolfram had more to learn, but von Dienst preferred that he hit the books and assigned lots of writing – summaries, proposals, plans, and critiques – so Wolfram did most of his learning alone. Axel had less to learn, but none of the skills came from bookwork. He and Griesel spent hours together most days.

The ex-lovers didn't refer to their affair. Nor did the troop in Wolfram's hearing. Wolfram did not fraternize with his men. They could have whatever fun together there was to be had, in training together, or in the field. They saw action together often in the near-constant border skirmishes of the troubled times. But in garrison, he met his men on the training field or not at all. Working lunches were held in Wolfram's huge bedroom at Blood Pledge Castle, because von Dienst enjoyed the career visibility. Of course von Dienst was also quartered in the castle, but in a smaller room in a less prestigious wing. Other than that, Wolfram normally spoke with Axel in public, slightly apart from others. It was easier that way in the beginning – one doesn't make love in public, after all. Gradually it just became habit.

Wolfram renewed his relationships with Cheri and Gwendal. After the recent separations of Conrad and Wolfram, they took each other for granted a bit less. The difference in age and temperament seemed insuperable when it came to Gwendal and Wolfram becoming friends. But they loved each other nonetheless. Wolfram's respect for Gwendal had grown nearly into hero worship. Gwendal's respect for Wolfram grew slower – he was still a spoiled adolescent, after all – but it was growing. Cheri honored Wolfram's wish not to be treated as a doll any more. Hugs, yes, but the days of playing dress-up were over.

For the most part, Wolfram got accustomed all over again to being surrounded by people, yet always alone. He embraced the loneliness rather than fought it. He cultivated his cool image as Bielenfeld's diplomatic liaison. He firmly denied to himself what a bald-faced lie that cold veneer was, atop his mercurial and passionate real self. Von Dienst provided him regular practice at rejecting amorous advances. He let it be known he wasn't interested in men – nor women. He was lonely, but untouchable.

Conrad eventually returned from Earth, strangely calm and out of sync with unrestful Shin Makoku, after his long tour of peace. Wolfram leapt at the opportunity to duel him with swords in the castle courtyard one day. He'd gotten much better, Conrad rather rusty, so Wolfram did his lifelong best ever against him, but in the end lost as always. Von Dienst and the sergeants enjoyed the end of the duel, waiting on their lunch meeting. Wolfram led them away without introduction. Half-Mazoku and humans were not welcome in Bielenfeld. Wolfram wasn't sure how von Dienst and Griesel would act.

-oOo-

Soon after, Wolfram and Conrad were sharing tea in the gardens by Cheri's special plot of flowers. Axel surprised Wolfram by seeking him there. "Weller-kyo, I'd like you to meet my troop sergeant, Axel."

"Honored, sir," said Axel, shaking hands with Conrad. "We've greatly admired your swordsmanship. Are these… Beautiful Wolfram." Conrad arched a brow blandly. "Ah, Commander von Bielenfeld's majustu signature, sir. And these blue ones must be Conrad-Stands-Upon-the-Earth." Both Conrad's brows were up, looking mighty amused.

Wolfram stood abruptly – Conrad was just too damned astute. "If you'll excuse us, Weller, I believe Sergeant Axel needs to speak with me about something privately." And he led Axel briskly to his bedroom. Wolfram crossed his arms and stared out the window.

"Did you want something, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir. This is… awkward. I wanted to ask your permission… There's a member of the troop… Well, we've developed feelings for each other. Sir."

"Robair," Wolfram said, eyes still fixed outside. It wasn't a question. Robair's quiet resentment had long since told him, that his arrival on the scene had interrupted something growing between those two. "Well, do you fancy his prospects as a sergeant? Think you can be fair, neither too lenient nor too harsh with him?"

"He's too gentle… Ah, don't get me wrong, trooper Robair is a fine soldier. But, no sir, he's no sergeant. And I believe we can keep it from being disruptive to the troop."

"Agreed. Well, let me know if Griesel or von Dienst takes issue with you. I shan't bring it up with them. Anything else, Sergeant?" _Get out of here, Axel. I don't want to think about you with Robair. _

"Wolfram…" Wolfram shot him a dagger glance for using his personal name, but Axel stood his ground. "I waited, it's been years. I wanted you to find someone first, but… Now at least your brother is back… Wolfram, you have to move _on. _It hurts to watch, this… _travesty_ of the flame healer turned icicle –"

"My personal life is _none_ of your concern! Ensure yours and Robair's are none of mine. _Dismissed,_ Sergeant."

-oOo-

Wolfram sat erect in the window embrasure, knees crossed rigidly despite wearing Yuuri's robe, blankets and cuddly throwables thrust harshly aside. "_The end_," he asserted icily, glaring at Manfred.

Manfred winced. "…More like refusal to permit an end…"

"There's nothing left to tell," Wolfram said in a dead voice, gazing out the window. "There were no problems from Axel and Robair. Conrad eventually told me about him and Yozak. It's not so uncommon, even between officer and enlisted, certainly not between enlisted men. But it was water under the bridge. I'm not Conrad. My aims were different. Axel and Robair were happy together – Robair was a much better match for him."

Manfred frowned in thought. "How do you know that? Did you speak of it, with Axel?"

"He told me –" Wolfram started to dismiss that in the same dead voice, but voice and posture softened as he grew thoughtful. "Soon after Yuuri came… Adelbert kidnapped the Maou from us –"

-oOo-

"A word, Sergeant?" Wolfram approached Axel in the stables, dawdling over tending his mount with Robair. All the others had left already. Axel nodded to Robair, and he left as well. Wolfram watched until the youth's back retreated out of earshot. "That's gone well for you…"

Axel cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Adelbert humiliated us out there," complained Wolfram. "He was right, we need to add a couple houjutsu-immune members. Know any? Or do you think I should go through von Trondheim?" He dug some sugar out of his pocket, left over from his own horse, and began helping to curry Axel's. It was alright – consulting with his sergeant wasn't fraternizing unduly, and Wolfram loved petting horses.

Axel shook his head. "Probably best to go through von Trondheim. Though you could try Weller first. Anyone from the Lutenberg Legion would work, but I'm not sure they'd fit in. Mazoku counter-houjutsu specialists would be better." He smiled. "Your von Dienst training is showing, sir."

"Is it? Good," Wolfram replied, pleased. Von Dienst and Griesel had returned to Bielenfeld long since, the peace returning the infantry to reserves. Wolfram had given his troop the choice, to stay on as Wolfram's private troop, or go home. Some left – he'd lately heard Mikka's wife was expecting their first child. And occasionally Great-Uncle Lord Friedrich sent along a new recruit.

"The men are all talking about your engagement to the Maou, sir. Quite a story! Congratulations." Axel looked at him searchingly. "He was impressive out there. You were… fiery. Are you… in love with him, Wolfram?"

Emerald eye met hazel sharply, but Wolfram didn't bridle. "…That's… a farce, really. I don't know if anything will come of it. I don't think he's attracted to men. Hell, he's too young to be engaged. And he's a _wimp!_ Did you see how opposed he was to fighting? Or even punishing a criminal?" Though he spoke harshly, Wolfram looked a bit wistful, and laid his forehead along the horse's nose. "Seems kinda doomed."

Axel grinned. "Oh, I don't know. Seems to me the two of you could make a good team, compensate for each other. A fiery man of the mind and a soothing man of the heart. You don't see that so often, a man who leads from his heart."

_I see it all the time, in you._ "Reminds me of someone, Axel."

"You calling me a wimp, Wolfram?" They both laughed. "As for the rest… When you put your mind to it, nothing can stand in your way. The _bishounen smile_ comes to mind… You'll dazzle him with your brilliance and beauty, by and by."

"Brilliance and beauty…" Wolfram scowled, and continued plaintively, "Do I need to lose my looks for people to take me seriously?"

"No way. Your contradictions are part of your charm. You distract 'em with your beauty and acting skills, and before they know it, you've won the day with your _real_ abilities. If you want him, you'll get him. Wolfram… it's good to see you happy, again. And, don't worry about the troop – just stick with your madcap Maou. I've got you covered."

Wolfram smiled. "Thank you, Axel. It's good to see you and Robair happy, too. Well, I should let you get back to him. I'll speak to von Trondheim tomorrow."

He _had_ touched Axel again. Nothing much – but he clasped the other man's shoulder in passing on the way out of the stable, and Axel returned the clasp with a warm smile.

-oOo-

Tears were pouring down Wolfram's face. "_Oy_, Chichiue, why am I crying _now?_"Manfred declined to comment. Wolfram mopped his face with a towel, and frowned, thinking. "After that… we must have talked lots of times, but… I don't remember anything." He sobbed again. "I don't remember… the night we were ambushed, or anything before my capture, I don't remember… While I was a hostage, I… Oy, I thought about Yuuri all the time, and Greta… maybe not about Axel…"

"That's common with trauma," Manfred murmured. "Memories leading up to it get lost in the shuffle. During the trauma, most people sort of fixate on something like a lifeline – sounds like Yuuri and Greta in your case."

"…I never told him I loved him," Wolfram said, tears welling up all over again.

"Are you speaking now of Axel? Or… Yuuri?"

Wolfram lobbed a stuffed animal at him. "_Axel,_ of course! Yuuri's my fiancé, he should know that."

"I imagine Axel knew it, as well. Nevertheless, here you are, regretting you never said it. Axel and Robair will be born again as age-mates in Bielenfeld, even as lovers again, as the old wives' tales have it. They've moved on. Some gifts can't be paid back, Wolfram, only paid forward. And some things… need to be _said_, for the sake of the speaking as much as the hearing."

Manfred waited a few minutes, hoping Wolfram could take the next mental leap on his own, debating as parent and teacher and healer whether and where to push. He decided. "Wolfram, I believe you need to tell Yuuri you love him."

Just then, a polite knock preceded Yuuri into the room for lunch. Axel's story hadn't taken that long – Wolfram only needed to remember it all, not tell it all. To his father, he only recounted enough to keep his mind on task, and ask for help here and there. Certainly the intimate parts he kept to himself.

Yuuri entered with a smile to set the tone, and promptly noticed that Wolfram had been sobbing his eyes out. "Hello, Wolfram! How are you doing?" he said brightly, searching for clues on his fiancé's mental weather of the day – hour – minute. Greta usually joined them at lunch these days, but Yuuri came alone first to gauge how well Wolfram had fared during the morning session. Some days he'd send for Greta… later.

"I'm _fine_, Yuuri," Wolfram grumped, blowing his nose. He _hated_ everyone looking at him as a mental case,_ especially_ because it was true, and _most of all_ when his mood swings really deserved it.

Manfred nodded. "Wolfram made a lot of progress this morning." Wolfram glowered at him. "_In fact._ I think we should take the afternoon off. Provided you attend to that one task first. Then… relax your mind, maybe paint, or go for a walk, or whatever you wish. I suspect… some things will start to come clear to you. _Provided you attend to that one task first._ If you need to wimp out, then by all means, call me back and we'll spend the afternoon together. Until you're up to it." Manfred stared him in the eye. "Good, then. Ah, but Yuuri, I believe _I'll_ ask the lovely Greta to lunch with _me_ for a change. Gentlemen." And with that he hobbled out.

"Ah…" Yuuri's fixed smile was growing strained. "Is that alright…?"

"Greta's _fine_, Yuuri," Wolfram grumbled. "Chichiue doesn't eat children. Greta's not nearly as afraid of him as you are."

_Now why didn't that sentence end in 'wimp'… _"He probably _likes_ Greta better than me. So. Hungry?" asked Yuuri brightly.

"Chichiue likes you both fine, because you're important to me. Yuuri… come here." Wolfram held out his hand. Yuuri hooked a chair over and sat, taking Wolfram's hand in both of his. He dropped the forced smile and searched Wolfram's eyes in concern.

"I'm _fine_, Yuuri. I just… I need to… Oh, hell." Wolfram buried his face in his other hand a moment, then looked up at Yuuri again. "Yuuri… when I came back… you told me, that you loved me…"

Yuuri squeezed his hand and nodded. "I did. I do. I love you, Wolfram."

Wolfram swallowed, nodded. "I… never told you… Nearly from the day we met… I love you, Yuuri."

"Wolfram…" Yuuri stared into Wolfram's green eyes. Slowly his face transformed into an incandescent smile. He rested his forehead briefly on Wolfram's to make sure he was OK with being touched right now, then took him in his arms and kissed him hard, then pressed his lover's head to his shoulder. "Oh, I love you, Wolfram. Thank you…"

Wolfram closed his eyes and clasped Yuuri back. Though he flinched a bit from the thought – _is it disloyal to compare them?_ – he couldn't help but contrast the slender boy holding him with the feel of Axel's powerful enfolding arms. But Yuuri… In truth, Yuuri was more powerful than Axel had ever been, stronger in so many ways other than muscle… He'd waffled so long, but now Yuuri had decided that he loved Wolfram, and once Yuuri decided on something, Wolfram could trust his heart utterly and absolutely. Wolfram suddenly _relaxed_ inside, let down a guard he hadn't realized was still there, totally surrendering into Yuuri's embrace. And though Yuuri's boyish form was even less muscular than his own, he felt safe in those arms as he hadn't felt since the days of young childhood. "Yuuri…"

"Mm, am I crushing you?" Yuuri let go a little and stroked Wolfram's face, brushed his hair back, traced the jawline. "Oh, yeah! You have the afternoon off! Let's spend it together? Oh – but you had to do something first?"

"Ah – you don't need to worry about that."

Yuuri sensed evasion. He traced Wolfram's ear, neck, collarbone with a finger. "What were you dealing with this morning with your father? If it's alright for me to ask."

"Um… Axel. I told him… about my relationship with Axel." Wolfram blushed. "Not just Axel, the whole troop… thing. Axel and I formed that majutsu troop together. Eventually, I became its officer, Axel the sergeant, but then… we couldn't be lovers anymore. Um, it was all tangled together with… other stuff."

Yuuri's beatific smile disappeared in brief pain. Then his smile started coming back. "You said… Axel was your first lover, right?"

"Yeah… My only lover, until you."

"Then… I'm grateful to him." Yuuri nodded. Wolfram looked at him dubiously. Yuuri shook his head slightly. "No, really. If… if you'd never had a lover before those rapists… But you'd had a man love you, before. And it was good. He was a good lover, right?"

"Yeah…" Wolfram blushed deeper. "Very good."

Yuuri nodded emphatically. "Good. Then… It's thanks to him that you can still be my lover. Otherwise… you'd never be able to bear a man touching you again. Right?"

"Yuuri…" Wolfram teared up. "You… amaze me. I love you so much."

"When… was this… just before you met me?"

"No. No, it was before you were born. It began and ended while Conrad was taking your soul to Earth."

"But… you were studying healing then, weren't you? Under Suzanna Julia."

Wolfram stared at him. "I never told you that."

"The Maou's mirror that time… Ah, I never told you… I went back and talked to Suzanna Julia, and you… It was the day Conrad rode off with the Lutenberg Legion. You gave me a bouquet of Conrad-Stands-Upon-the-Earth and asked me to give them to him."

"That was _you?_ …Yeah, I never studied healing again after Suzanna Julia died. I wanted to fight, instead. I got together with Axel and his squad to study fighting."

"Why, er, what did you break up with him over?"

"He broke up with me." _Please don't put this all on me… you're breaking my heart_, Axel whispered in memory. "No, that's not fair. It was because of who we chose to be. We wanted to build that troop to heal a rift between Bielenfeld and Shin Makoku after the war. We worked hard for it. I chose… damn, _I _chose, not Axel… I wanted to be the aristocratic ideal, someone who represented his people in government. I could have just stayed Chichiue's dilettante bastard son, but… I wanted to make a difference, claim my birthright as a von Bielenfeld. But in the end, we couldn't do that and be lovers, too. We chose… to raise our love-child together over being lovers, I guess. It doesn't matter, the love-child's dead now, too."

"Ah, Wolfram? Is there… something I should know about Bielenfeld being at odds with Shin Makoku? Maybe I should go there and talk to them…"

Wolfram laughed. "No! No, that's all fine now. All friends again."

"Then… you accomplished what you set out to, didn't you? The love-child didn't die. It… grew up?" Yuuri was losing control of this metaphor. The troop didn't grow up – it died, almost to a man.

But Wolfram was impressed. "You know… you're right. Yuuri… come to Bielenfeld with me? Just to visit. Hahaue wrote letters for me to the next of kin, and sent them home with Andrei… Chichiue was going to bring their souls back to Bielenfeld for rebirth, but… I want to do it. Have a memorial with the families and those of us who survived – there are others who went back to Bielenfeld. And I want to bring Axel's things home to his mother, and Robair's and Viel's. _I_ need to face them. And talk to Lord Bielenfeld… But, with _you._ When I'm stronger. Would that be… alright?"

"That would be _wonderful,_" breathed Yuuri. "You… won't leave me to go back to Bielenfeld to study healing?"

"Oh, that!" Wolfram laughed. He realized in surprise that no question remained in his mind on that score. "No, I'm too young to study healing yet." Yuuri was puzzled – hadn't he already studied healing twenty years ago? – but Wolfram didn't bother to explain. "Yuuri, we have the afternoon free…"

"Yes! Shall we go for a ride? Maybe a picnic lunch?"

"Make love to me."

"What? Ah… like, all the way? Are you sure about that?"

"All the way. I'm really, _really_ sure. I love you, Yuuri. Make love to me."

-oOo-

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	6. Love Lessons

Kyou Kara Maou : Axel

Summary: Wolfram tells his father about his first love affair, in the dark days after Suzanna Julia died, when Wolfram turned his back on healing and became a soldier. Yuuri appears in later chapters. Side story to The Bedding of Wolfram.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Warnings: rated M for mature sexual theme. No spoilers – most of the characters / plot here never appear in the anime.

_Please review._

_Update: On request, inserting a chapter with that last love scene between Yuuri and Wolfram kept onstage – not really something I've done before. Sorry it involves inserting a chapter instead of adding it to the end, but… This is where it goes, so… Well, let me know if it turned out OK._

Chapter 6 : Love Lessons

Yuuri gulped. _Make love to Wolfram – all the way? Ah, yes, I was worried about _him_ ever being able to make love, after his horrible gang-rape captivity, but, right _now? His heart pounded, his hands got clammy, his face flushed. _But if I say no, that_ I'm _not ready yet, then Wolfram… oy…_ In the past week, in the dark of night, comforting Wolfram through his nightmares, Yuuri and Wolfram had gone far physically, but Wolfram's terror always provided the brakes. Suddenly the tables were turned, and the brakes were on _Yuuri's_ side. He was terrified.

"Yuuri," Wolfram whispered. "You worry too much." He rose and pulled Yuuri up with him, placed a hand on the small of his back, the other caressing Yuuri's face, smoothing the hair back behind his ear, then tracing Yuuri's lips with a finger, looking deep into his dark eyes the whole time. Yuuri was mesmerized by the emerald gaze, his hands moving without volition to hold Wolfram's waist.

Wolfram continued, still in that soft husky voice. "I know you're a virgin. If you're not ready today, that's alright. Let's just start, and go as far as you want to go. Don't worry about it – there's nothing you _have_ to do. Aren't you hot in all that?" He started unbuttoning Yuuri's school-uniform-turned-Maou's-uniform.

Yuuri gulped, and nodded, still nervous. But his hands caressed their way to the belt of the robe Wolfram wore, untied it, then caressed their way back up the pink nightgown, down Wolfram's shoulders and arms, pushing the robe off with help from Wolfram. His jacket unbuttoned by now, he pulled that off, too, as Wolfram started unbuttoning his shirt.

"I don't… even know how," stammered Yuuri. "I – there's – how to – or I might hurt you –"

"Shhh," said Wolfram. Then he chuckled at a memory – how he'd broken through his reservations at first with Axel. "Even if you did hurt me… Say, Yuuri, you've never experienced a fire healing before, have you? And I didn't explain why I wasn't old enough to be a full time fire healer yet. Let me show you something. Finish getting rid of these shirts for me, would you? It's a gorgeous sunny day – why do people from your world always wear two shirts under a jacket, anyway?"

But he wasn't listening for Yuuri's answer. As Yuuri finished getting rid of his shirts, Wolfram rummaged in the drawer of their nightstand. "Lie down," he said, as Yuuri came up behind him. Yuuri, still lost, did as bidden. Only when he was lying on the bed, head and shoulders up on the pillows, did he see the dagger in Wolfram's hand. He sat bolt upright again. _"What?!?"_

"If I'm going to show you fire healing, there has to be a wound to heal," Wolfram said matter-of-factly. He pushed Yuuri back down on the pillow. "Do I have to show you on myself first? _Wimp._"

"Ah! Wolfram, this is _so_ not funny! What are you going to _do_ with that?"

"I'm going to cut you, this deep, just your stomach skin," Wolfram said, fingers indicating about a quarter inch. "Then heal you. Trust me, Yuuri. Children's scraped knees are much harder to heal. And in a few seconds, you won't be able to see that there ever was a cut."

"That's not how healing works!" Yuuri started to protest, but then remembered the difference between Wolfram after Gisela healed him, accelerated past danger but still slowly on the mend, versus Wolfram after Manfred healed him, suddenly looking entirely restored to complete health. "You… can do what your _father_ does?"

"No. Nowhere near it – but I _can_ heal a cut in nothing flat. Especially on you. Ready?"

The true answer was _hell, no!_ but Yuuri gritted his teeth and only screeched a little as Wolfram sliced into his belly, a very shallow clean gash as promised, though a frightening six inches long. Wolfram wiped the dagger on a towel and placed the towel to keep blood from dripping onto the bed. Then he summoned his signature fire flower to focus a moment. He placed his palm directly on the gash, fingers spread across Yuuri's belly. Yuuri's eyes widened, face instantly dripping with sweat, as fire tendrils lapped across his belly, down his groin, up his chest, dancing across his nipples, tickling fire between his ribs, gently fingering at his manhood. The touch felt like raw, unadulterated… _Wolfram_… passion and desire and love and fierce loyalty.

"What the…" Yuuri gasped, face dripping with sweat.

Wolfram broke off the touch and looked away, blushing a bit, also sweating, blowing out his breath to calm down. "I, um, held that longer and stronger than I should have… my self control isn't very good," he apologized huskily. He drew a fingertip where the gash had entirely, completely disappeared. Even the blood on the skin had been erased by the flaming touch. He finally met Yuuri's eye, embarrassed. "_That's_ why I'm too young to be a fire healer."

"How much of that was… fire healing, and how much was… your feelings?" Yuuri asked quietly.

"All of it. Both." Wolfram gulped. "Chichiue says when I'm…," _less testosterone poisoned,_ "…older, it'll be easier to keep more of _me_ out of it. And, well, it's my own passion, so on someone else… it wouldn't feel… like that," he finished lamely. "Anyway, you don't need to worry about hurting me a little. Not physically, anyway. Yuuri, I… well, like I said. I love you."

Wolfram was adorably flushed scarlet in embarassment, blond hair slightly damp around his face. His finger still idly traced Yuuri's belly, his nightgown slipped off that shoulder, hiked up to the top of his thigh next to Yuuri on the bed. Yuuri reached one hand to hold that bare shoulder, the other to claim that bare thigh. At first, that outpouring of raw passion seemed overwhelming, like an assault, feelings that he couldn't possibly accept from Wolfram. But as they sat silently carressing each other's bare skin for a few minutes, he felt his own surprise and fear receding, his own, more fluid, passion and desire coming to the fore. "I love you, too. Wolfram. Ah… of course, I still don't really know how to make love_ all the way_ to a man…"

"Roll over," said Wolfram. He pushed Yuuri to face away from him, then snuggled up behind him, wrapping a bare leg over his legs, and his arms around Yuuri's bare chest. He chuckled, "Relax, Yuuri. _You_ enter _me_, not the other way around. Well, usually, anyway. It's just easier to explain if we're not looking each other in the eye, blushing all the time."

Yuuri explosively let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "So… I'm supposed to be the… aggressive one?"

"In your dreams. Yuuri, my love, you will never,_ ever,_ be more aggressive than me. _Wimp. _But, then, your father will never be more aggressive than your mother, either, will he?" Yuuri involuntarily chuckled at the image this conjured. "See? It's not the same thing." Wolfram nuzzled his neck and ear and petted him until Yuuri relaxed and moaned a little.

"Alright… This is just, for your information, so you know what to do, if and when you want to. And any time, you can stop and ask, OK? Or I can stop you and tell you, but, you still want to know the basics ahead of time, right? So…"

Wolfram made a fist in front of Yuuri for demonstration purposes. "The basic problem is pushing inside without hurting me, right?" He pushed a finger into the hole in the fist between thumb and forefinger. "First of all, you don't even try it until I'm really aroused and want it." He nuzzled Yuuri's ear and whispered into it. "In case you were wondering, you're already good at that. Using your mouth to 'play the flute' works best. Then get your fingers wet." He took his demo fingers and put them into Yuuri's mouth for him to lick. Yuuri had fun with this until he'd lost his concentration altogether before Wolfram continued.

"Then press gently to get them in and work them a little before pushing further." He pushed the fingers into the fist a bit. "When I ask for deeper, you gently push in deeper and stroke like this. In a little bit, that will drive me _wild_, and I'll ask you to come into me yourself." He stroked Yuuri's burgeoning arousal though his pants. "Then you do the same with _this_ that you did with your fingers, pausing each time until I'm begging for more. Got it?" Wolfram unbuttoned Yuuri's pants to suggest he keep the Q&A segment _very short_.

Wolfram nuzzling his ear so he could barely concentrate, Yuuri replied, "Got it. Now move…" He rolled face up, hauling Wolfram on top straddling him. "Off with the nightgown," he requested, working it up Wolfram's hips. Wolfram grinned and yanked it off the rest of the way, and tossed it to the floor. Yuuri's hands traveled up to his chest. "One thing, though – I'm not a wimp."

"You're wrong. I'm sorry, Yuuri, it just can't be helped – you'll always be a _wimp._" Wolfram said this with his very best, most beautiful evil green-eyed demon smile. "But you're _my_ wimp, my love slave. You're _doomed_."

Laughing, Yuuri wrestled and tickled him until he was on top. "_Who_ is _whose _love slave?" He kissed Wolfram long and deep on the mouth, then ran his tongue down his neck, along his collarbone, down to tease a nipple. "Seems to me you were _my_ love slave _first._"

"Mmm," Wolfram moaned, then admitted wryly,"You have a point there. Ah... Yuuri…"

If Wolfram pushed him into it, he did it gently enough that Yuuri never felt forced. In the end Yuuri gave up his virginity quite voluntarily that afternoon.

-oOo-

Lazing in afterglow, Yuuri snuggled to his back spoon-wise, Wolfram idly picked up the dagger again. Alarmed, Yuuri put his hand on Wolfram's holding the dagger. "What are you doing, love?" he whispered gently in the blond's ear.

"I just remembered," said Wolfram huskily. "Why. Why I grabbed Conrad's dagger and stabbed myself when I came to, back in Mizrat Prospect." That was after his rescue from the rapists who'd taken him hostage – he'd stabbed himself in the gut when he first came to. "I overheard them, Conrad and Gwendal, while I was still swimming in and out of consciousness."

Wolfram started sobbing quietly, tears flowing freely. Yuuri held him tighter. He insistently pushed the dagger back to the nightstand, but made gentle interrogative noises to encourage Wolfram to keep talking. _Let it go, Wolfram, my love. Let this all out, put it to rest._

"I don't remember exactly what they were saying. They figured Axel didn't know I was still alive, didn't think Andrei would make it either. As long as there was a chance that he could save even one of his troop, he kept going and going. He was injured, too, a nasty concussion and gashes on his arm and thigh that kept breaking open and bleeding again. But they couldn't get him to stay behind. Then when he found out Robair was definitely dead, that he'd lost _everything_… he ran screaming right into the thick of it. Oh,_ Axel…!" _

Yuuri turned him so Wolfram could sob into his chest, holding him tight. "Shhh, love. It's alright …"

"That's when I did it. _That_ on top of everything else, and I screamed, and I grabbed Conrad's dagger, and…"

"Shhh," Yuuri murmured. "You both did the same thing, didn't you? Screamed _'NO!'_ to losing what you cared about so deeply. After you'd held on so long, so hard. But, Wolfram, maybe _Axel _lost everything. But _you_ didn't lose everything. You still have me and Greta and all your family. We all love you very, very much."

"I know," said Wolfram. "Thank you. Oh, by Shinou, Yuuri… I love you so much… I'm sorry. Today should be all about _you_, but I…" And Yuuri petted him and soothed him and eventually they made love again and talked again and made love again until it was time to wash and dress for dinner.

By lunchtime the next day, Manfred ordered Wolfram to quit moping around his room – to get dressed and take up his responsibilities as a courtier again. Though Yuuri blanched at this seemingly rough treatment, it appeared Manfred was right – Wolfram was coping. Though he still had nightmares and cried sometimes with Yuuri and Manfred in private, he was able to control his emotions well enough in public. He got lots of exercise and regained his appetite, and started to build up his strength again. He seemed mostly well again.

Though Yuuri was really in no position to judge. He was head over heels in love for the first time in his life. With Wolfram back in his everyday court life, he was prone to walk into walls and trip over furniture, because he couldn't take his eyes off his lover. At least Wolfram didn't make fun of him for it. He just smiled.

And the nights… The nights were a wonderland, when they were alone together.

-oOo-

Alright, one on demand "sweet lemon" scene. (If I even understand what a "sweet lemon" scene is…) So tell me, did that work?

I love reviews… Please?


	7. The Last Supper

Kyou Kara Maou : Axel

Summary: Wolfram tells his father about his first love affair, in the dark days after Suzanna Julia died, when Wolfram turned his back on healing and became a soldier. Yuuri appears in later chapters. Side story to The Bedding of Wolfram.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Warnings: rated M for mature sexual theme. No spoilers – most of the characters / plot here never appear in the anime.

_Please review._

Chapter 7 : The Last Supper

All good things, as well as some seriously mixed ones, must come to an end, reflected Yuuri, standing with his arm around Wolfram, who was chatting and mingling with the other dinner guests before the food was brought in for Manfred's farewell party. Yuuri excused himself with a quick kiss as the guest of honor entered, wanting a word with the older man.

"Manfred-sensei, I can't thank you enough for all you've done for Wolfram – for _both_ of us – these past weeks."

Manfred nodded. "…But?" His green eyes, so like Wolfram's, drilled frankly and directly into Yuuri's.

"Aha…" Practice hadn't helped – Manfred still unnerved him. "Um… are you sure… is there anything we should do to continue… Um. Wolfram still doesn't seem quite himself yet. He's still very… emotional?" At the moment, said Wolfram was dangling from Yozak and Conrad's shoulders, laughing out loud.

"Wonderful, isn't it? Haven't seen him this happy in decades. That repressed ice princess thing of his was disturbing. But we have you to thank for thawing him, eh, Yuuri?" Manfred clapped him on the back. "He's _fine,_ Yuuri. Wolfram's naturally… _flexible_ in his mental outlook."

"Ah, he's not… mentally ill?"

"Nor ever was. Granted, he has a bit of a temper. You might want to be careful of that, eh? _Ah!_ Cecilie! You look radiant tonight! May I escort you to your seat?"

Deciding he didn't want to think too carefully about what Manfred had just said, Yuuri returned to Wolfram. He put hands on his lover's hips from behind to detach him from Conrad and Yozak, and led Wolfram to the table as well.

"Annissina isn't joining us?" Cheri asked coolly.

"She mentioned that she knew better," murmured Giesela, with a sidelong glance at Manfred. Cheri looked inexplicably pleased by the remark. Conrad and Gwendal, belatedly realizing that people were sitting down, rushed to seize the seats on either side of Cheri. Manfred took the seat opposite her. Wolfram had scheduled this dinner rather late in the evening, and fed Greta earlier. Yuuri had yet to figure out why their daughter was thus disinvited to Manfred's farewell supper.

Yozak, new to being included in family gatherings since his and Conrad's inadvertant and innocent outing on Murata's part the week before, hadn't yet learned better than to sit next to his lover. Though invited by Yuuri, Murata himself had chickened out of attending. Wolfram and Yozak, each independently and for different reasons, had both accosted Murata this past week, promising to _kill him_ next time they caught him alone in a dark alley, but _thanks for the condoms_. Murata Ken had yet to find anyone sympathetic enough to explain this cryptic remark.

Yuuri, as the Maou theoretically presiding over the table, started to rise to give a toast to Manfred, but Wolfram yanked him back down, and stood instead. "To Chichiue, thank you for coming. We don't see each other as often as we'd like, but each time – I can't thank you enough!" Everyone drank to the toast, and Wolfram sat.

"Well, it's always a pleasure, son. I regret the occasion, but… Actually, we haven't spent so long together since that time we were talking about the other day, when you came to Bielenfeld to earn your commission."

"Mmm," said Wolfram wryly,"I owe you for that one, as well."

"Mmm," Manfred began, and the hum turned into an evil chuckle. "I seem to recall in the end it was more your _mother's_ coaching than mine that did the trick. Show me again, the _bishounen smile_."

Wolfram's _poise_ was weak, but he flashed his father a perfect _bishounen smile_, with _fire healer halo_, followed by _demure downward glance_, _hair toss, _and _smoldering glance_. Yuuri gulped.

"Ah, yes, _there's_ the smile that won him his commission," Manfred murmured, scowling, but with a gleam in his eye. "I'd been meaning to _talk_ to you about that, _Cecilie…"_

Conrad broke in, "Wolfram, was this while I was on Earth? I never heard the story of how you got your commission. I assumed you just… asked for one."

"It was… a bit more complicated," said Wolfram, half-hiding his face in his hand. The hand was on Yuuri's side, so Yuuri had to peer around it to verify that Wolfram was smiling, in a crimson sort of way. "Chichiue, we really don't need to go into that…"

"Why, I'm _amazed,_ pretty vixen!" There wasn't the slightest tinge of sincerity or innocence in Manfred's smile. "You didn't tell Cecilie and your brothers the story of how you bravely earned your commission by winning the Bielenfeld Beautiful Boy Pageant?"

This proved the ideal party ice-breaker. Indeed, everyone started speaking at once.

"_Wolfie!_ You won a _beauty pageant_ and didn't _invite_ me?" Cheri wailed.

"I was _especially_ bemused when my adult _son_ demonstrated the three-tone rose _kiss-me-lips_ staining technique you taught him, _Cecilie._ I believe we've had this discussion before. About raising my _son_ as a _BOY?_"

"Don't start –" Wolfram feebly attempted, but he was giggling too hard on Yuuri's shoulder for it to carry much moral authority.

"—Ah!" Günter cried beatifically, hands in air as though he beheld a vision. "The varied customs of all the lands! That's such a _wonderful_ way to qualify officers, don't you agree, Giesela? I'd noticed the officers from Bielenfeld were remarkably well endowed. I wonder, do they share the same rituals in neighboring Gratz? I've always found their officers likewise _inspiring_ –"

"— And here I thought they qualified by von Breathing," drawled Yozak, earning a sharp heel to the instep from Conrad, his devoted – well, actually their relationship was open enough to drive a battalion through, and Yozak frequently had, though he was under the illusion that Conrad was relatively chaste – his lover of nearly seventy years, nearly as long as Cecilie and the much-younger Manfred had been fighting.

"— It's no _wonder_ the lad turned out fay –"

"— Isn't this why we've kept them separated? Because they fight?" inquired Yuuri in concern.

"—In Mizrat, they have a nearly opposite custom, disfiguring their officers by slashing their faces and pouring vinegar in the wounds to prove their fortitude—"

"—Half the reason," said Conrad, grinning.

"—They're _fine_, Yuuri, have some more wine," said Wolfram, enjoying the show at least as much as his father, with a demon smile similarly devoid of innocence.

"—I _so_ wanted a girl," wailed Cheri.

"— Wolfram, what exactly do you and Manfred mean by _'fine'_?" asked Yuuri.

"—He earned his commission by winning a_ beauty pageant,_" said Gwendal in wonder. "_You, _Wolfram, only _you!"_ And Gwendal astonished and interrupted the entire table by starting out chuckling, and proceeding to laugh out loud.

Conrad turned a vast grin on Wolfram and signed, _I'm impressed, well done!_ Wolfram, awed and delighted as though he'd received the present he'd always most wanted, returned Conrad a victory sign. Yuuri, concerned about his lover's mental equilibrium, put an arm around Wolfram and snuggled him tighter.

"— But he was such _fun_ to dress up and so pretty, I couldn't _resist,_ Manfred --"

"—If I'd known your family dinners were this entertaining Conrad," drawled Yozak, "I would have asked you to come clean about us years ago —"

"—Greta's charming, but I wanted _Bielenfeld_ grandchildren with Bielenfeld _souls_, preferably ones who'd _outlive_ me—"

"—In Zorbane, they practice adult circumcision on their officers. Ah, but that's at the induction ceremony. Their sergeants wield the scalpel –"

"—We could always try _again_, Cecilie," said Manfred menacingly. Cecilie was out of her seat and advancing on him.

"—Oh, a little _sister!_ Yuuri and I could raise her with Greta!" breathed Wolfram.

"—A _sister._" Gwendal seemed mesmerized by the thought.

"—If it were a _son_, this time_ I'd_ raise him. No offense, Wolfram, I love you absolutely, but until _this_ blonde bimbo raised you, you were a _BOY."_

And Cheri slapped Manfred across the face.

_"TAKE IT BACK!"_ Conrad and Gwendal screamed it in unison, instantly on their feet. Wolfram, on the other hand, hugged Yuuri's arm tighter around himself in glee, and smiled up at Yuuri with his very most beautiful evil green-eyed demon smile. Yuuri couldn't help but return the grin.

Manfred rose and placed his nose about one inch from Cheri's, smiling his perfect match to Wolfram's beautiful green-eyed evil demon smile. "That won't be necessary, will it, Cecilie? Free love…"

Cheri blushed and caressed the cheek she'd just slapped. "Alright, I _take it back,"_ she said with a smiling half-pout. And she took his hand and drew him out of the dining room, waving a little good-night at her sons.

"Well, that was inspiring," said Yozak, rising from the table to join Conrad, still standing.

"Wasn't it?" said Günter hopefully. "Ah, young love!"

Yozak bent down to touch Günter's cheek in passing. "You really don't live on this planet with us, do you, von Krist-kyo?" And he drew Conrad out of the room.

In passing, Conrad explained to Yuuri, "_This_ is the other half of why we keep them separated."

"Giesela," Gwendal asked, "is Hahaue really young enough to have more children, do you think?"

"Oh, certainly, for a good century yet, and Manfred's still a young man. Though… they're a bit set in their ways. If they had a child, they might very well choose to let Wolfram and Yuuri adopt, rather than being tied down themselves."

"Are you still hungry, Yuuri?" asked Wolfram, cuddled in Yuuri's arms, craning his beautiful blond head back to gaze into his fiancé's face upside-down.

"Ah, are you?"

"Very. For _Maou._ I've been wanting you to read to me from _chapter three_ of that how-to picture book you brought me back from Earth…" And Wolfram drew him out of the room and toward their bed. And Yuuri had to admit, though he still wasn't quite used to this more… openly _emotional _Wolfram… it definitely had its advantages.

-oOo-

Author's note:

There is a sequel to this story, _The Pirate Wedding_, if you wish to continue. Summary: Wolfram and Yuuri's second wedding attempt is waylaid by pirates. But – might they still get a _child_ as a wedding gift?

The homepage link on my author's profile leads to illustrations, summaries, character bios, for all the stories in this story arc.

I love reviews… Please?


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